You Never Bring Me Strawberries
by katalizi
Summary: "The one whom the Druids called Emrys, the most powerful wizard of all time - and he couldn't do something as simple as create a single strawberry for the woman he loved." Started as a series of drabbles, now a full length fic about Merlin and Freya's love for each other, and their journey to free Freya from the curse she's under.
1. Daffodil

You Never Bring Me Strawberries

Merlin was the first to admit that he'd never been blessed with a wide variety of skills. He wasn't overly co-ordinated, nor was he particularly creative, and the less said about his singing abilities, the better. But he had never before been given a reason to doubt his skills when it came to magic. Magic was constant, unchangeable, coming as naturally to him as breathing or walking came to others.

So imagine his frustration when the young warlock, the one whom the Druids called Emrys, the most powerful wizard of all time, couldn't do something as simple as create a single strawberry for the woman he loved.

Didn't stop him from trying, of course.

"This should do it," he nodded confidently, holding his hands cupped in front of him as his eyes began to glow golden. The young woman opposite him watched intently, her face still lined with the type of deep seeded sadness the carrier doesn't even notice. They were sat huddled together in the deepest part of the forest, cocooned in the still soft hush of morning, cold and exhausted after fleeing Camelot the night before. Merlin couldn't deny the small stabs of pain in his heart at having to leave – dangerous as it was, Camelot had been him home. However, as he looked at Freya, hair a mess, dress tattered, dark eyes haunted, he knew he could never regret his decision. He wanted to be with her. He had never been so sure of something in his life. Even with that terrible curse laid upon her, Merlin was already certain that he loved her, and that he just wanted to make her happy. And to make her happy, in the smallest way, would be to use his incredible gift to make her a …

"Daffodil." whispered Freya softly, smiling ever so sightly as Merlin's face dropped comically.

"Oh," was all he could manage, as he stared dumbfounded at the bright yellow bloom in his palm, the only splash of colour in the dull morning.

"It's not even the right colour this time," said Freya. Merlin's head jerked up at this, his smile already regaining strength. This was new. Freya was gently _teasing_ him, her smile now just beginning to touch her eyes as well as her lips. Merlin felt something bubble within his heart. Already he could tell that the wide, free spaces were doing Freya good, and, more importantly, she was becoming more and more comfortable with him.

"Well, it's hard to focus on something as dull as fruit," he countered. "When I'm distracted by beautiful things, I guess I just make beautiful things."

Freya ducked her head, but not before Merlin saw the blush that blossomed across her face and neck. His smile widened, then suddenly faltered when she looked back up at him, her face tormented and her eyes bright with tears.

"How can you say that?" she asked him, her voice wavering, but her eyes never leaving his. "After last night? My crimes, my curse … how can you look upon me and call me …"

She trailed off, unable to continue. Merlin, however, was not put out. He knew where this fear was coming from. To be so very, very different, to the point of dangerous, would be enough to make most people flee. Merlin knew this all too well. He saw the situation very simply; where Freya expected him to be fearful, he would be brave. He would never give her reason to think that she scared him, just as he, with all his power, would never scare her.

"How can I call you beautiful?" he finished for her. He reached out and took one of her hands in his, his heart expanding as he felt her small, warm fingers wrap around his larger hand. He held up the daffodil between them, and they both admired it for a moment before he reached out and very carefully tucked it into the dark waves of her hair. As he pulled his hand away he allowed himself the pleasure of letting the tips of his fingers brush against her cheek, delighting in how she sighed and leaned into his touch. "Very easily."

And then she smiled, a wide, stunning smile that finally quashed the sadness in her eyes. Merlin matched her smile with his own, and right there and then swore to himself that he would spend the rest of his life dedicated to making her smile in that way.

That, and figuring out why he couldn't make a damn strawberry.


	2. Daisy

There weren't too many opportunities for either of them to smile during the day. Even though they had made their escape from the city walls of Camelot, they were still within the very depths of the kingdom, and a little too close for comfort to the heart of it's power. They had nothing with them but the clothes on their backs, and while they both knew that this wouldn't be ideal for long, at that very moment it was perfect for their quick getaway.

He and Freya darted through the thickets, stumbling in the undergrowth, following no path but the sun as they doggedly made their way north. Every now and then Merlin's eyes flickered guiltily to Freya's bare feet, now caked in mud and leaves. He had offered her his shoes just before they set off on their mad dash, but she'd politely refused them.

Merlin brightened at the memory. He didn't realise exactly how crestfallen he must have looked at her rejection but it must've been something, because he was completely taken aback when she'd smiled at him sweetly and raised her soft hand to caress his cheek.

"I think the city boy might need his shoes more than the wild girl from the forest." She'd explained coyly, before turning to begin their escape.

As much as the honourable part of Merlin didn't want to hear it, Freya was right. He knew there was no way he could've kept this pace up with bare feet, while the sticks and sharp rocks seemed to have no effect on Freya at all. Good thing, too. They run almost non-stop all day, and it was now well into the dark of night. Every now and then, they did slow down their pace, and even stop on occasion, with Merlin heaving and gasping and Freya shaking from exhaustion, but it always seemed to be at that moment that they'd hear the distant pounding of hooves, or the far off ringing of metal and chains. At these noises, Freya would twitch and start, like the wild thing she claimed to be, and when her wide, terrified eyes met his, Merlin would always find some new, untapped reserve of strength to continue on.

Merlin would've laughed at the situation, if he had any spare breath left within him. He could see the two of them – thin, pale, barely out of childhood and completely unarmed, being hunted down like the worst kind of scum. There was a blast of a horn, and Merlin knew that they'd found the trail. Merlin knew Uther would not have let Freya escape so easily, as she was a living embodiment of what he hated the most. Merlin also knew that, knowledge of his magic or not, by aligning himself with Freya, he'd also be put to death. And all because of what they couldn't help. Because of _what_ they were. Merlin was a warlock, and Freya was cursed, but that didn't, nor should it ever define _who_ they were. They were both good people. They didn't deserve this.

Suddenly, Freya slipped and fell, collapsing in a heap before him, at the same time the shout of voices could be heard edging nearer. He heard her give one wretched, dry sob as she forced herself back to her feet, determined to never again be caged.

And like a twig snapping, Merlin shifted from laughter to rage.

It wasn't fair. It simply wasn't fair. Freya should never have been chained. He should never have had to lie about who he was.

He didn't realise that he had spoken out loud until Freya's head whipped around and she stared at him, startled. Merlin could barely see her, his mind was so clouded as he spoke the near forgotten words of an ancient spell, wrapping his anger up alongside his magic as the spell tore itself out of him, blasting outwards in a wave of energy that threw Freya's hair back and caused the forest around them to bend and groan.

For a few moments after all Merlin could do was focus on his breathing, hissing it out in angry huffs. Suddenly, behind him there was a small thump, and then another, as if ripened fruit had suddenly started to fall. Merlin twitched his head towards the sound – and went cold. It wasn't fruit falling, it was small birds. Blinking thickly, it took Merlin another moment to realise that the forest was now completely silent and very, very still. No nocturnal scurrying of small creatures, no loud, brash rattle of the knights. The only noise he could hear was shallow, panting breathing.

Merlin was frozen, down to his very core. He couldn't move. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Freya. She had known he had magic, but she wasn't aware of exactly _how_ powerful he was. Even to someone accustomed to magic, what he had just done was unbelievably powerful, and he had done it without thought. Merlin closed his eyes and began to shake. He'd messed up, as he always did. Just that morning he'd promised that he'd never scare her, and now he'd let his rage dictate his magic – a short path to great evil, he knew. A day. He couldn't even keep his promise for a day.

"Merlin?"

At the sound of her voice Merlin opened his eyes and draw in a deep breath he didn't know he needed. He looked around to see her kneeling next to one of the fallen birds; one pale finger barely touching the feathers as she gently traced the outline of a wing.

"I don't think they're dead," she continued softly. "Just asleep." She stood up and calmly walked over to where he stood rooted to the spot, her dark eyes inquisitive, but not demanding.

"Um." His voice felt rough, like he was coming out of a bad cold. He cleared his throat and tried again. "It's a sleeping spell. I just wanted to knock out the knights who were chasing us. I didn't – that is, it wasn't –" He gestured helplessly to the silent mess he'd created, feeling his eyes sting as if he was about to cry.

Merlin gave a silent gasp as he felt Freya's small hands reach for his waist. She slowly weaved her arms around him, stepping forward to cleave to his chest, tucking her head underneath his chin and calmly breathing in the scent of him. After a moment Merlin realised he was just standing there, dumbstruck, then brought his heavy arms up to wrap around her small frame. As he felt one of her hands slowly run up and down his back in comforting circle he almost did begin to cry, tightening his grip on her, dropping his head onto her shoulder, and wondering how on earth he was so lucky to find someone like her.

"You don't scare me." She whispered against his chest. "You never could."

They stood there for an unmeasurable amount of time in the near darkness, with the only sound being their soft breathing and harmonized heartbeats. Eventually, a small gust of wind reminded them that, however much they wised it, time did not stop for anyone and sooner or later Merlin's spell would wear off. They let go of each other, but neither wants to move away just yet. Merlin loved the fact that no matter how tired, scared and stretched they both were, they had still managed to find solace and warmth with each other. And it had been effortless.

Much like his next action should be.

With a slight grin Merlin raised his hand to the side of Freya's head, much like he'd seen grandfathers do when preforming 'magic tricks'. Freya cocked an eyebrow at this action as she tried to hold down the smile tugging at her lips, staring up at him as his eyes flashed golden. But, as before, his smile slowly slide away when he brought his hand down to reveal a single white petalled daisy.

In contrast, Freya's grin widened, as she reached up to wrap her fingers around Merlin's hand that held the flower.

"You weren't trying to make me a strawberry, were you?" she asked playfully.

Merlin quickly replaced his dismayed look with one that he thought suited perfect innocence. "What? No. Whatever gave you that idea?"


	3. Lavender

_**Hello my lovely readers!**_

_**Thanks so much for the encouraging reviews – nothing spurs an author on like feedback, so keep 'em coming! I'm glad you're all enjoying this, because it looks like it might stretch out a bit from that initial one-shot.**_

_**For the meantime, I'm just going to focus on Merlin/Freya, although I may bring some more characters at a later stage – who knows?**_

_**This chapter is from Freya's pov, whom I feel doesn't get a lot of that anywhere. It's a bit of a long one, so I hope you enjoy it!**_

_**Remember, reviews are like kittens – I'll never get sick of staring at them! **_

_Freya's grin widened, as she reached up to wrap her fingers around Merlin's hand that held the flower._

_"You weren't trying to make me a strawberry, were you?" she asked playfully._

_Merlin quickly replaced his dismayed look with one that he thought suited perfect innocence. "What? No. Whatever gave you that idea?"_

Freya gave a small laugh as she admired the flower. It was just a common daisy, but in the pale darkness of the night the simple white petals took on an almost unearthly quality and seemed to almost glow above their clasped hands. Sweet, simple and absolutely perfect – much like the maker himself.

Freya's eyes left the bloom to travel up and along Merlin's features. The shadows of the night made it seem even more pronounced and angular than usual, but to Freya it was the most handsome face she'd ever come across. But it wasn't just the structure; it was the emotion behind it. Most men Freya had known were usually so guarded and false, covering up their feelings with bravado and crass lies in an effort to hide what it was they really felt. But not Merlin. From the moment she'd seen him pass by that terrible prison she'd been held in, it had been as though she could see every thought that passed through his mind reflected on his face. Even though they'd only been in each other's company for a handful of days, she already felt as if she _knew_ him.

Like right now, as she looked up at him, she felt her heart lift at the sight of that small, joyous grin that he just couldn't keep suppressed every time he performed magic around her. She couldn't imagine having to live as Merlin did. She almost scoffed at the thought – a cursed creature pitying an all-powerful warlock? – but it was true. She had never felt the need to lie about what she was, and before the curse, never felt the need to hide away in fear or shame. But for Merlin, who had to live through every day with only one other person to confide in, who had to lie and pretend and deny his very nature to even his closest friends … surely that was a hell as bad as any prison. Freya shivered and brought her other hand up to wrap around Merlin's fist in a comforting gesture. No wonder he enjoyed showing off his talents so much. In his own way he'd just broken free of a cage, too. As Freya ran her fingertips over his work roughened hands she made him a silent promise, that she would never stop indulging his gift. She hadn't lied earlier – he didn't scare her. He entranced her.

Suddenly a bolt of pure pain coursed down the entire length of her being, causing her to gasp and jerk, her head thrown back, her toes curling into the ground and her hands clenching around Merlin's fist with an unnatural crushing force. She felt her stomach drop out and fear wrap its cold hands around her throat as she realised what was happening.

"No!" she cried, throwing herself away from Merlin, caught up between the physical pain she was feeling as her body, as well as she shards of anguish that ripped through her heart at the terrified look that had taken over Merlin's face. It was happening again, just like every other night for months now. Soon, she'd be a monster. Soon, she'd feel that terrible urge to rip and tear, to kill.

"Freya!" chocked Merlin, taking a small step towards her and half lifting an arm.

"No!" she screamed, throwing her arms out wildly, trying to focus as waves of torture washed over her. "Keep away, run away … I'm a thing, I'll kill you – _ah_!"

She suddenly dropped to her knees, her fingers digging into the soft earth, her breath coming in hot, short gasps, and though her eyes blurred with tears of pain and despair she managed to make out something small and white on the ground just in front of her.

The small daisy lay forgotten between them.

"You have to go, Merlin," she said slowly, her voice taut and barely within control, as she stared at the ground rather than meet his eyes.

"No!"

"You must!" Freya squeezed her eyes shut, but this time it wasn't against the pain. She remembered everything she did while transformed. She remembered every kill. She knew if Merlin stayed here, she would kill him. She could see it in her mind's eye – the way _her_ claws would latch onto him, pinning his small frame to the ground while _her jaws_ …

"No, no, no!" she whimpered as her body started to shake and convulse uncontrollably. "Not again, not now … _argh_!"

As she let out the high-pitched screech of agony the very last vision to fill her human eyes was of Merlin's face as it crumbled.

Freya often wondered how it was that she could go through this process every single night, and yet never become accustomed to it. She was still very much aware of her skin tearing and mending itself, her bones popping and breaking, only to repair and reshape themselves into something hideous. At some point she realised that her screams were no longer human, but rather a long and sorrowful animal's howl.

And she was no longer Freya, the Druid girl. She was a Bastet.

There was always a small part of her that kept her mind when she transformed. She was aware of her new body, her fur, her wings … her _tail_, of all things. But that was usually just a faction of her mind, an isolated corner where the human Freya could hide until she was free. What she mostly felt was the hunger, the need for flesh, for blood. It was more than a natural desire to hunt; it was a desperate, psychotic _want_ that drove the monster half mad before it had even sensed its prey.

The bastet sniffed and raised its huge head. There was something very close, just in front of her. She could smell it, all youth and fear, hear its harsh breaths, almost _taste_ its sweet meat … she saw her prey lift one of its limbs towards her and she tensed, bristling, waiting for an attack …

Suddenly, the monster snapped into the background and Freya felt her mind once again become her own. She shook her head, pawing at the ground, a low growl issue from her throat as she sort to control herself, to understand what she was. It was then that she realised that the prey was speaking to her … no, not _the prey_ … Merlin.

She looked up to see Merlin had stepped even closer, keeping his hand out as if to pacify her. He was making noises, and it took a huge amount of concentration for Freya to realise that he was talking to her.

"Shh, it's alright. You're okay. I'm here."

If Freya could've, she would've wept. Maybe it had something to do with the magic flowing through Merlin's veins, or maybe it was even deeper than that, but for the first night in months Freya's humanity had overwhelmed the bastet. While she continued to see Merlin through a beast's eyes – to her, he was all weakness and flesh – she had no desire to harm him.

Merlin was now so very, very close. Carefully, almost reverently, he laid he open palm down on Freya's midnight black fur. At first she recoiled slightly, the bastet repulsed by such contact, but Freya quickly gained control and tenderly pushed her head under Merlin's arm. She heard him laugh softly as he brought up his other hand to scratch underneath her chin as he continued to stroke the fur between her ears. This sensation was foreign and absolutely delightful, and Freya felt her eyes drift close as she gave herself over to enjoying the sensations. As Merlin moved in even closer, wrapping his thin arms up and around her shoulder blades, his chest pressed close to her face, the more human part of Freya began to wonder what it would be like to hold each other like this while they were both human.

"Freya," he said, after a while. "Are you _purring_?"

At this Freya's eyes snapped open, and the deep rumbling in her throat cut out as she jerked back to give Merlin an affronted look. Or as near to as she could manage as a winged cat. Merlin held up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender.

"Okay, okay! Well, if you want me to stop …"

With a small growl Freya once again pushed her head up underneath Merlin's arms. She couldn't speak, but surely he'd get the message. With a small laugh, one mingled with bittersweet relief, Merlin continued his ministrations. As Freya resumed her purring, the through crossed her mind that she'd be quite happy to spend the next hour here, curled up with Merlin.

The crackling of undergrowth cut through the silence like shattering glass. Freya purring stopped and the hairs on her back bristled as her head jerked in the direction the sound had come from.

"What is it?" asked Merlin softly, his hands now still as he felt Freya tense beneath him. He was looking around blindly into the darkness, and it was clear that he hadn't heard anything yet. Freya felt a dark satisfaction. At least there were some advantages to being a beast.

She pulled herself out of Merlin's grasp and padded forwards silently, every nerve on edge, her tail twitching fitfully. The man, the solider was a fair distance away and from what she could sense, from his soft groans to his uncoordinated movements, he was just beginning to wake up from Merlin's spell. Time to go.

Freya had the perfect idea of how they should make their escape, but was at a loss as to how to communicate it to Merlin. Circling her way back to him, she once again tried nudging her head underneath him – but this time instead of going for his arms, she went much lower, butting him softly around the legs and knees.

"Hey – what?" Freya wished she could laugh at Merlin's startled face. "Freya!" he cried after a particularly forceful nudge near his rear. He jumped away from her and spun around to face her. "What _are_ you trying to do to me?"

Freya cocked her head to the side. _Come on, city warlock. Figure it out!_

She could see the train of thoughts darting across his face as he eventually made his way to the only conclusion …

"You want me to ride you?" he cried.

Freya shook her head in appreciation and pawed the ground in impatience. Already she could hear more and more knights steadily find their way to consciousness. Merlin had no idea how the net was closing in. To hurry up the process she once again butted his legs, this time in earnest, causing him to almost trip.

"Alright! I … oh boy …"

To say that the bastet within her was not pleased to have a skinny young man clamber his way onto her back was something of an understatement. She did her very best to ignore the way his boots and knees kicked and dug into her ribs, or how he didn't quite know where to put his hands. At one point he actually grabbed both her ears, making her hiss in pain an annoyance.

"Sorry! Sorry … is this just as strange for you?"

Freya just snorted and expanded her wings to their full span. This was going to be new, but as she heard a man shout in the distance she knew they it was either fly or fall. Judging from the way Merlin tensed above her, he had heard that, too. It was time to go.

Slowly at first, then gaining momentum, she began to beat her wings, the massive downward draught making all the leaves flee before them. The moment she felt the upward pull gain strength she jumped up with all her might and jerkily made her way up into the night's sky. And not a moment too soon. Over the sound of her own wings she could discern the whistle of arrows as they sailed past her and Merlin.

_Hold on, Merlin!_ she thought desperately as they continued to surge upwards until the trees melted into one massive expanse of greenery and the landscape was laid out like a map beneath them. Dipping one wing down slightly, she changed direction and started heading north. Above her she could hear Merlin's cheers of elation and joy, and she wondered what it would be like to be in his position. She, like many others, had often dreamed about flying, but she found the reality to be somewhat disappoint. Flying was hard, very hard, and not made any easier with the added weight. After about ten minutes she began to feel the burning in her wings. In half an hour she was exhausted. The forty-minute mark passed before she finally allowed herself to loose altitude, and drop back down to the forest floor. She knew her transformations only lasted about an hour, and the last thing she wanted to do was to revert back to human form hundreds of feet above the earth.

As her paws hit the ground she tried very hard not to buckle and collapse from fatigue. The moment she was back on solid earth Merlin unceremoniously slid off her back to land in a crumpled heap. Freya turned to look at him, her tail low and her head dropping, but her own pains were forgotten when she looked down at his sorry form.

With her thick fur coat she'd failed to realise exactly how cold it was up there, but poor Merlin, who only had a simple jacket to protect him, was almost frozen. He had his arms wrapped around himself as he shivered violently, stretching and rubbing at his legs to wear out the cramps that had formed. And yet, in spite of all this, when he looked up at Freya the most beautiful smile lit up his features.

"Well, that was fun!" he exclaimed through chattering teeth. "Lets not do that again, yeah?"

Freya could've kissed him. But, as it was, she just padded up to him and gently nuzzled at his face and chest before circling and curling up around his trembling form. Merlin seemed to instinctively know what she was doing and remained still until she had settled herself around him, before relaxing against her ribcage, nestled between her four legs. Freya sighed, crossed her two front paws over and rested her head on them as Merlin shifted for a moment before heaving a mighty sigh himself and resting his head against her soft fur. Already his trembling as ceased.

They didn't say anything, and between exhaustion and piece of mind that they'd escaped, they both quickly fell asleep.

Early the next morning, just before the sun had risen, Freya woke up back in her human body. At some point during the night she'd changed back, but had been so tired that she'd slept right through it. She also realised that she had finally seen the end of that tattered dress of hers – but she was not naked. It took her a moment o realise that she was dressed in Merlin's brown coat, and she was incredibly grateful for that. She blinked thickly for a moment, trying to get her bearings, when she realised that she was no longer lying on the ground … nor was she wrapped around Merlin. Instead, she was in a slouching upright position, and she could feel a steady warmth against her back and a firm grip around her waist.

"You don't need to get up yet," came the soft murmur next to her ear, sending shivers of pleasure rushing along her skin. "Sun's not even risen. You sleep. I'll keep watch."

Freya smiled while her eyes welled with tears. She remembered, what had seemed like a lifetime ago, when Merlin had promised to take care of her. He was truly a man of his word. Closing her eyes, Freya reached down and took a hold of his hands that here clasped around her waist, resting one hand over his that covered her stomach, and bringing the other one up so she could press her lips upon it. As she did so she could feel Merlin's heart beat faster against her back.

Then, just as she noticed a new smell, she felt a strange tickling against her face. She opened her eyes to see, right on the tip of her nose, a purple haze. She blinked in surprise, then held out both hers and Merlin's hand to see what he had in his grasp.

"Lavender," she whispered softly, a single tear escaping and rolling down one dirty cheek.

"Sorry."

Freya huffed and once again drew his hand towards her as she wrapped her arms around his, encouraging him to hold her even closer.

"Don't ever be sorry," she sighed, as she closed her eyes and allowed the scent of lavender lull her into a peaceful, dreamless slumber.


	4. Dandelions

They had travelled a great distance the night before, and the landscape around them was vastly different to what it had been. Although they were still in the depths of the woods the trees themselves had become more spread out allowing a lot more sunlight to reach the forest floor, which was clear of a lot of the thick undergrowth that her and Merlin had had to struggle through before. The sun was almost at its height and the day had warmed up considerably since the mild morning, and the sound of birds and insects filled the air with a contented hum.

To Freya, the whole thing seemed to be the most pleasant and fragile dream. Sure, she was tired and filthy, and completely naked save for Merlin's scratchy brown jacket, which, truth be told, didn't actually do too much to hide her dignity. But she was free. For the first time in longer than she cared to remember, she was absolutely, incredibly, blissfully free.

It was more than just being set loose from the metal and chains of a cage. Now, she was even free of the lies and secrets that had infected her life since that terrible day when that man attacked her, and his mother cursed her. At first she had tried to hide what she'd become for her fellow Druids, but that was impossible. She couldn't deny that she still felt a slight bitterness towards her own people. She had grown up with their teachings, and one of the most important lessons that had been impressed on her since birth was never to turn away someone in need.

And yet … and yet, when she was lost in her darkest hour, she had been shunned by her own kind. Rejected, exiled, and forced to take on a life that was nothing more than running and hiding and constant, never ending lies. Where was their kindness then?

It had been a stranger, someone accustomed to the laws against magic, who had so much more to loose by helping her, who had come to her aid.

_I scare most people away._

_I am not "most people"._

Freya smiled at the memory. At the time she had thought that there had been a slight bravado to that claim – he had no idea how deadly she truly as – but now she realized that he was speaking the absolute truth. He, most definitely, was not _"most people"._

She took an opportunity to steal a glance out the corner of her eyes at Merlin as he strode along beside her. He'd rolled up his sleeves and loosened his neckerchief against the morning's heat and Freya couldn't help but take a moment to admire his long, lean arms. Yes, he was a skinny lad, but there was no denying that all those hours spent running after his lords and masters had left him strong and sculpted in ways the big burling knights and their fawning followers could never appreciate. But the thing that really got to Freya, the thing that made an unknown, but not unpleasant emotion coil up inside her, way the small smile that constantly stayed upon Merlin's expressive face. Every time she glanced at him, he was smiling, always filled with a joy he didn't even think of tapering. She'd never met anyone so willing to show the world who they were or how they felt. When she thought about how he had to flee his home to be with her, she felt terrible … but when she caught that look on his face, she knew that he, too, was enjoying this new and strange freedom as much as her.

Maybe _because_ of her.

She moved even closer to him and snuck out her hand to catch his as it swung freely by his side. While they didn't slow their pace, Merlin did start slightly and turn his head to her questioningly. Freya merely grinned and shrugged slightly, delighting in the feel of his warm palm against hers. After a second Merlin wrapped his fingers around hers in a solid yet gentle embrace his thumb running across her knuckles.

Together, hand in hand, they made their way out of the woods.

It was mid afternoon by the time they finally found their way to some sort of civilisation. It was tiny, only a collection of small houses that were round in shape with smoke issuing from holes in the top of thatched roofs. There were a variety of people making their way around the homes, but it was clear that the majority of the village was absent – probably tending to their fields in that Freya could just make out in the distance. It was the sort of place that was self sufficient and isolated enough that they were never troubled by the greater affairs of the kingdoms that surrounded them. Freya guessed that, like the Druids who lived apart, that these folk wouldn't take too kindly to strangers.

She and Merlin kept to the tree line as they slowly circled the village. It seemed like everyone had been overcome with the lazy afternoon spirit, as most people moved lethargically or were actually dozing in the soft sunshine. The air was thick and quiet.

"Ah ha!" breathed Merlin in triumph by her side as they crouched in the undergrowth. When Freya looked at him he used his eyes to indicate to a long line strung between two houses, a collection of recently washed laundry swaying languidly in the breeze.

"Merlin!" she gasped in mock shock. "Don't tell me you're thinking of stealing?"

"Stealing? No, never. I'd consider it to be more like …" he trailed off, thinking of the right word. "Commandeering."

"Commandeering?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, it is going to get cold later on," he said, turning his attention back to the hunted laundry. "And as much as I enjoy looking at your bare legs it'd probably be more practical to get you covered up."

It took a full five seconds before he realised what he'd actually said. Freya, who was staring at his profile, waiting for the penny to drop, almost burst into laugher at the way that he subtly froze up, eyes widening in blind terror as he kept his gaze firmly on the clothes.

"So …" she said, trying to keep her features neutral. "You've been looking at my legs."

Merlin spun around to face her. "Freya, I – "

"Did you just notice them now, or have you been looking all day?"

Merlin didn't answer, but the way his mouth opened and closed comically pretty much confirmed her suspicions. Her mouth dropped opened.

"You have!" she accused, now unable to keep the smile off her face any longer. "You've spent this whole day just staring at my legs! And all this time I thought you were enjoying the weather …"

"Well," said Merlin strongly, have found his voice. "They are two of the finest legs I have ever seen, and as I said before, I do tend to get distracted by beauty."

Now it was Freya's turn to be at a loss for words. Men staring at her, well, that was no new thing. She was fairly certain every woman had her fair share of that. But being _admired_ by a man, especially a man like Merlin …

She didn't realise it, but they had started to lean into one another. She watched as Merlin's eyes moved to her lips and her breath hitched as she closed her eyes …

The ear piercing shriek of a small child shattered the moment into a thousand pieces and she and Merlin recoiled from one another, tense and ready to fight or flee once again, worried that their hiding spot had been discovered. After a few agonising moments they realised that they hadn't been found, and that the yell had been the result of a child's game, nothing to do with them. Freya blew out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding as Merlin scratched the back of his head in a self-conscious gesture.

"I should probably get some clothes."

"Yes."

"So," Freya paused and cleared her throat, trying to get her voice back to normal. "So, how are we going to do this, then? There's a lot of open space between us and those houses …"

She trailed off when she saw the look Merlin was giving her – one eyebrow raised and a slightly smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His lips …

"Oh." She turned her attention back to the clothes. "Of course."

Merlin grinned widely before sobering slightly and focusing all his energy on the clothesline ahead. He whispered some strange words she couldn't place, and she shivered at the way the tone of his voice changed. Off in the distance, a dress suddenly sprung to life, lifting itself off the line and floating in midair, disembodied and strangely hilarious.

"No, wait!" interrupted Freya, putting her hand on Merlin's arm. At her touch the dress dropped to the ground, his concentration effectively snapped. Freya's eyes flickered towards that, but she decided to tactfully ignore that.

"What?" he asked, slightly flustered.

"It's just that … well, a dress isn't very practical, is it?" she said.

Merlin raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Freya, we're not shopping here!"

"No, we're stealing!" she replied. "But if we must steal, we should only take what we need. A dress is lovely, but it's not going to help in the long term, is it? Trousers and a good shirt will do me just find."

Merlin thought about it then nodded, seeing the practicality behind it although he couldn't quite hide his pout. Freya smiled. She knew he wanted to se her in a fine dress, like the one he'd somehow managed to acquire back at Camelot, but it just didn't make sense. Freya wasn't worried that her dressing as a man would lessen his opinion of her, but she did decide to tuck away that little bit of knowledge that Merlin like it when she got girly. Could be useful later.

"Okay," nodded Merlin, rubbing his hands together. "Trousers and shirts it is, and maybe a jacket." He glanced down at her bare feet, biting his lip. "And some shoes."

This time, it was a dark pair of boys trousers and a light shirt that jumped to life, as well as a thick fur lined jacket and a pair of working boots that happened to be sitting by one of the hut's entrances. Like the dress before, it looked like some mad puppeteer had taken control of the laundry. As Freya watched, she was amazed to see the shirt swing to sit roughly above the trousers while the boots made their way under the loose hanging legs. As they swayed jerkily back and forth she realised that Merlin was actually using his great and awe-inspiring powers _to make clothing dance._

Freya couldn't help the laugher that bubbled up from inside her, and soon she had to cover her mouth in an effort to keep the noise down. Next to her Merlin's shoulders were shaking in mirth and when the phantom clothing spun around in a strange pirouette Freya turned to lean her head against Merlin's shoulder and wrap her hands around his arm, her grin as wide as his, content to take in the show.

Suddenly a housewife appeared from around a corner, carrying a washing basket. At the sight of the hovering clothes she let out a screech and dropped her fresh laundry all over the ground.

"Uh oh!" declared Merlin, and his complete insincerity had Freya doubling up with laugher again. In a flash the clothes gave up their dance routine and flew towards Freya and Merlin at the speed of an arrow. Together, they deftly caught the bundle of fabric and leather and grabbing each other's hands they darted off into the woodlands, their unbridled laughter drowning out the indignant cries of the woman and her washing.

Their dash through the woods was nothing like before. The sun was out, the earth was fresh, no one was chasing them and as Freya held onto Merlin's hand she felt as light as a bird. Once they were certain they were again alone they stopped, panting and still grinning from ear to ear. As Freya looked up at Merlin, dirty faced, rumpled shirt, arms clasped around a stolen jacket and shoes and the most stunning smile on his face, she felt something click in her head.

Before she really knew what she was doing, she'd flung her arms around Merlin's neck and was kissing him with as much passion and skill as she could muster. At first Merlin froze, completely taken by surprise, but then he threw away the clothes he had and was kissing her back with equal enthusiasm. His hands twined themselves around her waist drawing her as close him as possible as her fingers ran through his hair, delighting in its softness. It was as if the world had decided to spin faster, and it was only them who were on the axis. After a few minutes of this the passion ebbed away slightly, so the hurried kissed turned into slower, softer, more exploratory ones.

Eventually they pulled away from one another, suddenly aware that the sun was much lower in the sky now. Freya gave a tiny shiver; the cold of the evening was just beginning to make itself known. She sighed and leaned her forehead against Merlin's, satisfied for the moment to just listen to his heavy breaths and thudding heart. After another long moment she gave his swollen lips one last peck before drawing back and going to pick up her new clothes.

Once she had all she needed she turned back to look at Merlin. He hadn't moved, and he very much had a dazed, punch drunk look on his face. He was staring at her like she was the most incredible thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

"Uh, Merlin?" she said softly after a while.

"Hm?" he answered, still stunned. Then he seemed to finally notice the clothing in her arms, and the fact that the woods were so spare that there wasn't anywhere for her to hide and get changed. "Oh. Oh! Uh …"

He quickly spun around on the spot so his back was to her, letting out a massive breath, scratching at his head again. Freya also turned her back to him, getting dressed as quickly as possible. The trousers needed to be rolled up and the jacket was several sizes too big so it looked like she was swimming in it rather than wearing it, but overall the effect was quite nice, very comfortable and, considering that kiss, very, very necessary.

When she turned back to face Merlin, she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud. Somehow, the forest floor all around them was no longer bare, but absolutely covered in small, furry dandelions which seemed to have mysterious sprung up all around them. She could see that Merlin was now completely still, like a child caught doing something naughty. Freya cleared her throat and he turned around to face her, a sheepish smile adorning his face.

"I think I went a little overboard this time." He said plainly.

Freya grinned and walked over so she could place her hands on his shoulders, standing up on her toes and plant a quick kiss on his lips.

"Yes, well, the dancing clothes were a bit much." She nodded. She turned back around, picked up Merlin's jacket from where she had left it, and handed it back to him.

"So, where to now?" he asked as he shrugged his jacket back on.

Freya's mouth twisted in thought for a moment, before she dropped down and plucked up one of the dandelions. Pursing her lips she blew gentling on the soft white seeds, smiling as they detached and flew away on the breeze. She turned back to Merlin, who had watched the whole thing in fascination.

"That was seems as good as any." She smiled, before turning to follow the seeds on the wind. After a moment she felt Merlin come up by her side, and his safe, warm hand slide into hers.


	5. Sunflower

**Hello my fellow fanficers!**

**So sorry about my absence lately, damn life interrupting my writing time. So, here's an extra long update for you all. Thank you for all you kind words of encouragement, this is the first big story I've undertaken. Here's hoping it's a good one.**

**WARNING: angst. So much angst.**

Merlin squeezed his eyes up tight against the sound of Freya's tortured screams. His instinct was to somehow use magic to help her, to save her, but he knew that it would make no difference. More likely it would do more harm than good. So he curled his shaking hands into white knuckled fists and turned his face away.

After their great clothing heist, getaway dash, and that marvellous, mind numbing kiss, the pair of them had drifted along on a dizzying high and had just delighted in spending a beautiful, warm afternoon in each other's company. The feel of Freya's smooth palm against his work roughened hands and the way they would walk so close to one another as to sometimes bump shoulders had left Merlin with one of his silliest grins that he couldn't be bothered to hide. As they made their way along the thick bramble bent out of their way, the leaves danced and shifted about them, and the scent of autumn drifted lazily along beside them. For the first time in his memory Merlin was using his magic completely freely, without worrying if someone would see, or that it's unnatural nature might frighten someone. His eyes would glow, and suddenly a ripened apple might fall from one of the highest branches, landing softly in his outstretched hand. And as he would hand it over to Freya all she would do was smile indulgently and then maybe stand up on her tiptoes and plant a kiss on his cheek as thanks for his efforts. Never had someone been so _accepting_. She didn't tell him to stop, to be careful, don't be foolish. She didn't back away in fear or smile at him with tight eyes. She simply accepted him as he was. Every time Merlin thought on this he would feel a great well of something expand in his chest, almost to the point where he couldn't bare it. Then this feeling would push outwards, along his back and through his limbs until it ended in small sparks, right where Freya's hand rested within his. Merlin had been able to almost forget what awaited them in the darker hours of the night.

As the light began to fade from the sky and the woodland around them was slowly leached of its colour Merlin had noticed that Freya had begun to loose some of her joyous spirit, becoming quiet and withdrawn again, her grip on his hand becoming tighter. Merlin dealt with his own nerves by becoming louder and twitchy, talking nonsense almost non-stop. Both knew what was coming. Both knew there was no way to avoid it.

Once it got too dark for them to continue, they stopped for the night, Merlin lighting a small fire that gave out more heat than a fire its size should. Freya settled beside it, pulling her knees up to her chin and staring unseeing into the flames, her wide eyes almost black in the darkness, the firelight playing within their depths. Merlin busied himself with preparing dinner, going about his work in a jerky, distracted manner and not even revelling in the fact that he could catch, clean and cook some small rodents using his magic, and not even get his hands dirty. He had long ago stopped talking, his throat now feeling thick and stuck. The small fire crackled softly, the wind whispered by unheeded and unseen creatures continued to twitch and scurry in the undergrowth, but the silence between the two of the seemed to grow and solidify until Merlin felt like he was pushing his way through all the heavy, unspoken words that hung around them.

They ate their meal sitting on opposite sides of the fire without touching or exchanging one word. As soon as they were finished, Merlin moved around to join Freya, sitting rather stiffly by her side. It felt so strange to not know if she wanted his touch or not. Over the past few days they two of them had almost always been touching one another, and the sudden departure from this comfort had Merlin feeling on edge. Together that sat in strained silence, waiting for the darkest hour of the night to be upon them.

They both knew what was coming having shared this experience twice before, and despite the danger both times had turned out much better than expected. But Merlin knew what the main difference was going to be this time. The previous times both he and Freya had been caught up in events much bigger than themselves. Escaping the bounty hunters, fleeing Camelot. In those situations there was nothing to do but act and react, no time to make special plans and try to work out a stratagem to deal with this curse. It was simply a case of live or die – fall or fly. But now … now, as they sat alone in the deepest, most sheltered part of the woods, safe from predators and persecution, there was only this one danger left – and this was something that would never leave them, no matter how far they ran. As the darkness around them deepened and the silence grew, Merlin felt as if he was standing before a raging flood, trapped and terrified as the waters rose.

Merlin nearly jumped out of his skin as Freya gave a soft sigh and dropped her head onto his shoulder, her eyes never leaving the fire. After a few moments Merlin himself relaxed and nestled his cheek on the top of Freya's hair, closing his eyes and taking a moment to just breathe in her scent. She was like something soft and fresh, like wildflowers.

"Does it get easier?" he asked quietly, his voice hoarse from disuse. Freya sighed once again, bringing her hands up to wrap around Merlin's upper arm, drawing him to her.

"Never."

At her quiet admission Merlin felt a painful lump form in his throat as he raised his eyes to the sky above, trying hard to blink back tears. The last thing Freya needed was for him to fall apart on her. She needed someone who would remain strong beside her in her hour of pain. Merlin felt that she must know by now that he wasn't afraid of the monster within her, but rather that he couldn't stand the sounds of her nightly agony. If her joy brought him joy, it would stand to reason that her pain would be like shards of glass cutting through him.

He gently tugged his arm out of Freya's embrace, but only so he could bring it up and wrap it around her shoulders, pulling her close in to his chest. Freya turned into his warmth, burying her face between his neck and shoulder, bringing up her other arm around so her slender fingers could play lightly with the fabric of his shirt that covered his stomach. Merlin shivered as he felt her breath on his skin, and the muscles on his stomach quivered whenever her fingers inadvertently brushed a little too firmly. Merlin closed his eyes once more and just concentrated on the feeling of Freya wrapped up in his embrace. Small, but not fragile. Soft, but not yielding. And an absolutely perfect fit.

Suddenly Freya jerked against him, letting out a small cry. Merlin was instantly alert, jumping to his feet and grabbing a hold of Freya's hands, even as they started to tremble violently within his own. Freya made to jerk her hands out of Merlin's, but he held firm.

"Merlin, please – !" she cried out as she tried to wrench her hands from his.

"You know I don't care about the beast, Freya!" replied Merlin, his voice firm even as he struggled against the prickling heat in his eyes.

"It's not –"

"I'm staying with you!"

"I don't – "

"No matter what!"

"Mer – "

"_I won't leave you!"_

"_**Merlin**!"_

Merlin froze. It wasn't just the strength of her voice that gave him pause. It was the expression on her face. Somehow, even though the beautiful lines of her features were already contorted in pain, Freya was managing to smile at him. Smiling at him like he was missing the bleeding obvious.

"Fr – Freya?"

"I need to take my clothes off," she gasped out. Merlin halted, dumbfounded. That was the very last thing he'd expected to hear. Freya moaned, bending in half as another wave of pain overtook her, holding onto his hands like they were her anchors. But when she looked up that small smile still remained definite on her lips. "We can't afford to constantly steal clothing, can we? Too much trouble … _ah_!"

"Oh! Yes – yes, of course!" Merlin instantly dropped her hands, and then impulsively reached out to grab her face, his fingers delving into her hair as he quickly, almost franticly, crushed his lips against hers.

It lasted only a moment before Freya's mouth opened beneath his to let out an agonised scream, as she ripped herself away from him and staggered away into the trees, disappearing from the ring of light the fire cast and melting into the darkness outside.

And then Merlin was alone, standing straight and still in the only patch of light in a sea of darkness. And somewhere, out in that darkness was Freya. Alone, frightened and in pain.

A long, drawn out scream rent the air around him, and Merlin felt like the bottom of his stomach had dropped out. He couldn't see, but he could very well hear as Freya's bones broke and her skin tore over her frame. As her shrieks became less and less human, Merlin squeezed his eyes shut and turned his face away from the direction of the terrible noise. He was Emrys! The great and powerful warlock! He should be able to stop this! And as the night became eerily quiet once more, Merlin made a silent promise to Freya that, one day, he would.

With his eyes remaining closed, Merlin took a few deep breaths through his nose, trying to calm himself as an unnatural silence started to ring in his ears. Once he knew he was composed he turned back around to peer into the darkness, looking in the direction where he last saw Freya disappear.

"Freya?" he called out softly, his voice falling flat in the murky hush. He squinted out into the wood surrounding him, only just managing to make out the outlines of a few trees. "Freya?"

A deep, low growl sounded out from the shadows, the pant of the beast rising, and there in the dark Merlin could just make out two large, overly bright green cat eyes staring out at him. For a split second Merlin felt the icy finger of fear trail it's way up his spine and he gulped on reflex before giving himself a good shake, mentally slapping himself over the head as he reminded himself that this was _Freya_, nothing to be scared of. He slowly raised his hand before him in a comforting gesture, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile as he started to walk towards her.

"It's okay, Freya. I'm here." As he left the light of the fireplace and stumbled into the darkness he felt his foot kick something soft and lumpy on the ground. Glancing down he could just make out the pile of stolen clothing that Freya had quickly shed just before her transformation. Looking back up Merlin started as he saw that Freya had moved much closer without him realising, moving with the stealth of a predator. However, in the next moment he face relaxed into a genuine smile as he looked deep into her distorted, feline eyes and saw, shining bright and true, the radiant light of Freya's soul staring back at him.

"Hello beautiful," he murmured, reaching out the stroke the thick, silky fur between her ears just as he did the night before. And just as before, Freya once again closed her eyes and began to purr in pure bliss, something that made Merlin chuckle deep within his throat. He could never deny how absolutely terrible and brutal this curse was, but whenever a moment of joy presented itself, now matter how mixed up with pain and fear, Merlin would always seek to enjoy and appreciate it.

But there was something niggling him at the edges of his mind, something so small and inconsequential that he couldn't believe he was thinking about it. After a few more minutes of just marvelling at the amazing texture of Freya's feline fur beneath his fingers Merlin ceased his petting and knelt down to pick up and fold Freya's clothing. At the loss of soothing contact Freya's purring immediately cut out, and she opened one eye. Merlin just shrugged and gestured down at the neatly folded clothes now nestled in his arms.

"Force of habit," he admitted. "I'm so used to picking up and folding clothes, I just couldn't let that be. You should've seen Arthur's room …"

He trailed off as flashes of his life a Camelot raced through his mind. His endless chores, trips to the lower city to visit Gwen, Arthur shouting training orders at his knights, glimpses of Morgana in all her cold finery, Gaius sitting in his quarters absorbed in some ancient text …

Suddenly he was hit with such a wave of homesickness that he actually felt winded. It was as though his stomach had disappeared and his limbs felt light and shaky, and he turned his face away from Freya as he felt something unexpectedly crumble. He took a few deep, even breaths, trying his hardest to centre himself. He tried to remind himself that he was okay with their need to flee Camelot and he knew with a certainly that he could live with that decision … but he couldn't deny that it hurt. If he was honest, this was not the life he wanted for either of them. Running, hiding. And the more he thought on Freya's curse, the more he wished that Gaius was by his side, there with his books and theories and his unfaltering wisdom. As much as he wanted to help, Merlin had to admit that he was wildly out of his depth. All these decisions, and no-one to confer with. All of a sudden Merlin felt incredibly old.

A warm pressure against his back brought him out of his dark reverie. Merlin closed his eyes and clutched Freya's clothes close as he leaned back and enjoyed the soft yet solid comfort of Freya's cat head resting against his shoulder blades. She'd sensed his distress, and even though there was very little she could do in her current state it was clear that she was going to offer any form of reassurance that she could.

"I'm okay," whispered Merlin. "Just homesick, I guess …"

Freya nuzzled his back and neck, and for a moment all they did was stand there. This was what they had both feared was coming for them in the dead of the night. During the day they could forget the curse and their escape. They could pretend that they were on holiday, only going away for a short while, just a boy and a girl happy together. But in the night, in that choking darkness, they couldn't deny their situation, their fears, and their loneliness. But the largest, most terrifying idea was yet to be given voice. It was the idea that they may not be strong enough to withstand their challenges.

Merlin cleared his throat and turned back to Freya, an easy smile already gracing his angular features. "I think it's time for bed," he said, perhaps a little too cheerfully to be believed. "We didn't get too much rest last night, so I think …"

Merlin stopped when he noticed a change come over Freya. Although she didn't have the same expressions of a human Merlin was becoming more and more adapt of reading baset Freya, and he could tell from the way she'd raised her massive head and pricked her ears that she'd sensed someone coming closer.

"Freya?" he whispered. "What is it?"

There was no time to prepare. From out of the darkness the came a faint whistle and a flit of movement out the corner of Merlin's eye, and suddenly Freya was roaring in pain and anger as a bolt from a cross bow grazed across the side of her head, narrowly missing her eye and leaving a deep and nasty gash that instantly started oozing deep red blood.

"NO!" cried Merlin as he spun around and vainly tried to see through the night, his hands low and palms spread wide at his sides as he felt his magic crackle and build inside of him. He'd always known that his magic was tied in with his emotions, and now seeing Freya's blood begin to tangle her fur brought up such levels of fury that in a moment Merlin felt as though he could accomplish anything.

There were more ominous whistles and two more bolts flew out of the darkness, but someone much less skilled fired these and they fell wide of their marks.

"Who's there?" demanded Merlin furiously, while at his side Freya snarled and coiled herself into an attack position. Merlin didn't even think that she might loose herself to the beast and attack him … but then, at that moment, he didn't feel much like himself either.

"Don't hit the boy!" came a disembodied order. All around them Merlin could hear the bushes rustling and the undergrowth being crunched, and he knew they were surrounded. "He's just a bystander in this! It's the creature we want dead!"

At those words Merlin almost lost what sense he had. "Don't you dare hurt her!" he cried as his eyes turned a bright gold and the tiny fireplace before them suddenly erupted into a massive furnace that lit up the forest around them like the pits of hell. Now that he could see, Merlin noted at least ten men who had crept up around them, but was surprised to see that none of them were soldiers. They were all common folk, peasants, but they were all armed in some manner, be it with a shovel, pitchfork, one sword and three crossbows. In the suddenly blinding light they had all frozen in their attack positions, scared out of their minds as they witnessed Merlin's powers and saw, for the first time, the form that Freya had taken.

"Sorcery!"

Merlin turned to face the man who owned the voice that had previously called out for Freya's death. He was an older man, tall and bearded, dressed in rough and simple clothes but holding himself with nobility that made Merlin identify him as the leader. He carried with him a crossbow, a new bolt already loaded, and Merlin felt his hands twitch as he realised that this was the man who'd shot Freya. He approached the two of them, the only person daring to move in the entire scene. He walked warily, but with the sure step of a man who'd been in battle before and survived. And while all the other men where gazing upon Merlin and Freya with a mixture of fear, horror and awe, this man simply looked at them with a mild curiosity. Merlin knew right away that this was a man to be frightened of.

"Who are you?" he asked, crossbow held lightly at his side but ready to be swung up in an instant.

"No one you need to know," answered Merlin evasively.

"I think I do," countered the man. "You see, I am Safir, and this is my land that you're crossing. You might've seen that small village nearby … you and your pranks gave my neighbours quiet a scare."

Safir's easy stance and strong words began to feed into the men surrounding them, and as they slowly began to recover their courage a few of the braver ones began to edge nearer. Merlin felt his hackles rise.

"I know the marks of magic when I see them," continued Safir. "And I cannot tolerate such an … unnaturalness in my domain. I gathered my best men and we have been tracking you for sometime, you and … the girl. The girl that bore the mark of the Druids. The girl, who, by the looks of things," he paused to rake his eyes over Freya's besat body. Freya bared her fangs in reply. "Is not a girl at all."

"We mean you no harm," said Merlin through gritted teeth. "We just want to be left alone."

Safir tilted his head to one side and narrowed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said slowly. "But the word of a freak like you holds no honour in it."

Merlin gave a hard swallow at this. He'd been called many things in his time, but '_freak'_ was a new one. At his side Freya gave a soft, menacing growl.

"This is you last chance …" began Merlin, when suddenly there was a flash of movement off to the side and the sound of a battle cry as the man with the sword charged towards Freya. He was a young man, handsome enough but untried by the world. Where he got that sword from was anyone's guess, but anyone could tell that this was his first time using it. Merlin wondered if he'd often spun that sword around by himself, dreaming of a day when he might actually put it to battle.

He never did. With a violent reaction that was quicker than the eye could follow Freya spun around and swiped a massive paw at him, her extended claw ripping through the flesh of his chest as she sent him sailing into a far away tree, his sword dropping uselessly to the ground. There was a sickening crunch as he fell lifelessly to the ground and in the very next second all hell broke loose.

Safir let out a strangled yell and raised his crossbow to fire it at Freya, but in the very next moment the crossbow burst into flames and Safir was forced to throw it to the ground. Merlin's eyes faded back to their usual blue, but in the next moment all the men around them were spurred into action at the sight of their fallen comrade, and they all started charging towards them, brandishing their makeshift weapons. What followed was a blur of carnage.

Merlin flung out his arms and two of the men were sent sailing backwards, while at his side Freya yowled and snarled, leaving her attackers in bloody heaps, the entire scene drenched in a ruddy orange light. Suddenly Merlin felt something small into him as he was hurled to the ground, a large heavy weight landing on top of him. Before he could react two massive hands closed around his throat and clamped down, cutting off his air supply in one fatal move. As his mouth gaped uselessly and his eyes bulged, Merlin saw the face of Safir swim into his vision. Gone was the icy, composed man of before. Safir now resembled some kind of beast, his wise face contorted into an angry snarl. While he couldn't breathe Merlin still concentrated on summoning his magic to aid him – but just as his eyes began to glow Safir brought one hand up to roughly strike Merlin across the face, leaving him dazed and flailing.

"No you don't, freak!" snarled Safir, as he brought a knee up to press down on Merlin's chest as he strangled the life out of him. Merlin tried to push against Safir, but the man was so large and Merlin's arms felt weak and heavy. There was a throbbing pressure inside his head and darkness started to creep into the corner of his eyes …

In a moment the weight above him was gone. Merlin gasped, drawing in deep lung fulls of much need air, coughing and choking as he tried to recover. When his vision cleared he managed to look up and see Freya standing above him, one large paw on either side of his prone body, hair bristling, ears flat, fangs bared as she dared the remaining men to come closer. Merlin rolled his head to the side and saw the still body of Safir laying some distance away, his face turned away. He wasn't moving.

"Freya!" Merlin managed to gasp, his throat feeling like it was on fire. With extreme effort Merlin managed to get to his feet and collect Freya's clothing, which was now tramped and caked in mud. Wearily he looked into Freya's large eyes for a moment before jumping easily onto her back. He knew that he said they should never do this again, but there was no other means of escape. With a final, despairing look at the few men still standing Merlin raised his hand to the massive inferno, and in the next second it was extinguished and the woods were plunged into absolute darkness.

The morning was grey and still in the moments before the sunrise. The grass was covered in early morning dew and the gurgle of the small creek they'd found made for a soothing lullaby. Merlin closed his eyes and rested his head against the tree truck behind him, swallowing on reflex and then steeling himself against the raw pain that followed. He felt numb. So that was what a witch hunt was like. When ordinary people forgot who they were, so frightened by something strange and unexplainable that they had to lash out in violence.

Merlin felt rather than heard her near. He opened his eyes and looked over at Freya as she made her way out of the forest, dressed once again. His eyes instantly went to the horrid gash on the right hand side of her face, tearing up her skin all along her cheekbone and nicking her ear. Her face was solum and her eyes were overly large as she in turn stared at the welts and bruises that were forming on his neck.

They didn't say anything. They hadn't said anything since their escape.

As they stared at each other through the damp, misty morning, Merlin simply raised his hand towards her, offering her a large, bright yellow sunflower. Despite herself Freya's lips twitched in a watery smile, and she easily crossed the distance to wrap her hand around the thick stem, gratefully accepting Merlin's gift. Never letting go of Merlin's hand she sat down beside him, pulling him down so that he was able to rest his head on her lap, one of her hands brushing through his hair, the other still clutching the sunflower and resting on Merlin's chest. For a few minutes they stared into each other's eyes, not searching, just observing, until Freya's soft ministrations got the better of Merlin and lulled him to sleep.

And then Freya cried.

The moment Merlin woke up, he knew something was terribly wrong. He was flat on his back and the sun was high in the sky – it must've been past midday. How on earth had he slept that long? He knew that it must've been a combination of stress and exhaustion, but that wasn't what was nagging at him. He knew when he fell asleep, it had been in Freya's lap, her soft hands soothing and calming him. But now he woke up to find himself cold and alone, flat on his back next to the small creek.

He sat up, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his head. "Freya?" he called out, rubbing at his temple. He blinked blearily and glanced around the clearing. "Freya?"

And then he saw it. For a second his heart stopped, and then began beating so rapidly he though it might explode out his chest. There, laying on a nearby rock was a large, beautiful sunflower.

"No," whispered Merlin, his panic growing. "No!"

He leapt up, all pain forgotten as he snatched up the flowers and spun around wildly, looking for some sign of where she went, hoping against hope this his instincts were wrong, that maybe she'd just gone off to find food or … but he knew that wasn't the case.

_My life is ... I have to keep moving, always looking over my shoulder. People chasing me._

Merlin knew Freya would be feeling responsible for last night, but he couldn't believe … couldn't accept … she couldn't be gone. She just couldn't.

"Freya!" he screamed out in anguish. Only the silence of the forest answered him.

**Well … I did mention angst, didn't I? Now review, or I label this as complete and leave it there! Oh yeah, I'm not above blackmail! Love you all!**


	6. Bluebells

**Dear Fellow FreyLin Fans,**

**I'd like to apologise for my absence. To be honest, this chapter has been giving me drama. They say writer's block is just an excuse to laze about, and 'they' happen to be very right. The best – and only – way to defeat this is _just sit down and write the damn thing!_ Even if it's only a paragraph a day … which is exactly what I've been doing.**

**Apologises again about last chapter's angst, here's hoping that this makes up for it.**

**And for everyone who's reading, reviewing, fav-ing and tracking this story, thank you so very much for your support and just for enjoying it! Making people happy/engrossed is a writer's ultimate payoff!**

**- katalizi**

Deep in the overgrown and shadowy forest, keeping to the side of a wide, bubbling creek, a long figure draped in too large stolen clothes was slowly making her way down stream. Her shoulders were rounded, her arms crossed around her stomach and her head was bent so all she could see was her booted feet, doggedly taking one step at a time.

Freya hiccupped and sniffed, wiping haphazardly at her face with the sleeve of her too long shirt. She had long ago stopped crying, not due to a lessening of her sorrow, but just because her eyes were now too swollen and raw that the tears would no longer come. Her nose continued to run and she knew she looked a sloppy, snivelling mess. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. There was no one there to see.

Freya drew in a deep breath, somewhere between a sob and a sigh. Nothing mattered, not really, not anymore. Not the hunger in her belly or the pain of her rubbed raw feet inside her too large boots, or the absolute, crushing silence that threatened to smother her. Freya bit down on her lower lip and tried to lift her chin up, to hold herself together in spite of everything. She should never have bothered to fool herself. This was always going to be her path. She was always destined to be alone.

By the Gods, she wanted Merlin so badly she could scream.

Raising both hands she quickly and ruthlessly scrubbed at her face, trying to somehow stamp out that horrible, twisted feeling in her guts. She knew she was doing the right thing, the only honourable thing to do. Suddenly, she laughed, a harsh, bitter sound with no humour in it. The honourable thing? Sure, that's what she was doing when she quietly slipped out from where she'd been cradling Merlin's sleeping figure and slunk away into the forest with every intention of putting as much distance as she could between the before he awoke. Oh, she was so _honourable_, leaving the man she loved without even an explanation let alone a goodbye, just the last thing he presented her, a beautiful, perfect sunflower discarded and lain on a cold bare rock. Freya knew the message that would convey and hoped that Merlin would understand. All those flowers he'd made for her, and yet none of them had been intentional. All were the result of something else he was striving for. And as the sadness and self-loathing coiled itself around Freya's heart, she could almost see those delicate acts of magic as a twisted symbol for her and Merlin's love.

Unintentional.

Unnatural.

Fleeting.

Freya gave a small moan as those thoughts scarred their way through her mind. She couldn't entertain them, not even for a moment. Her soul ached for Merlin's, but her mind was adamant in its decision to leave. She clutched at the hair at her temple, feeling a pounding headache beginning to form. Her head was a war with her heart, and she wasn't sure she'd survive the carnage.

Standing there in the blazing afternoon sun, having walked almost non-stop all day, Freya suddenly felt unbelievably hot. It was as if she just realised that her baggy clothes where actually way too restrictive and were in fact strangling her. Something snapped in her mind. Suddenly she was tearing at her clothes, ripping away at her jacket, almost panicking like a trapped animal when her hands got caught in the sleeves and she couldn't get the garment off quick enough. Shaking it away from her like a diseased thing she quickly grabbed one boot and ripped it off before hastily disposing of the other one. She needed to be cool again. That was the only though that made itself clear in the raging, whirling storm that was her mind and before she could even take the time to think it through, before she even knew what she was doing, Freya turned to the creek and in one smooth motion, dived in.

The cold hit her like a slap to the face, but she just ignored it and continued to sink downwards. In an instant Freya felt clam again. Her eyes were closed and sound was muffled in those watery depths, so all she could really do was feel. She felt the cool water wrap itself around her skin as her clothing and hair rose and floated about her, weightless and unimportant. Tiny bubbles that had exploded around her when she hit the water started making their way to the surface, running along her skin and making her shiver as they tickled her. The creek was rather shallow, and soon Freya felt her toes nudge against the mud and plant life that covered the bottom.

She wanted to stay there. Here in the water it was quiet and undemanding, calm and safe. But already Freya knew that was impossible, and slightly ridiculous. Sure, it was nice here in the river … but it was severely lacking in oxygen. She could feel the urge to take a breath beginning to rise within her, but ignored it for the moment so she could just enjoy the cold comfort of this alien world.

And in one huge moment the gravity of what she'd done washed over her just as the creek had. It felt so strange. It was as if in one moment she was completely weighed down, and yet absolutely hollow. She didn't feel like crying and lashing out anymore. This time, all she felt incredibly foolish and unbelievably lonely.

As Freya hung there, suspended like a strangely dressed water nymph, she began to feel her lungs burn. With one solid push at the bottom of the river she propelled herself towards the surface, shooting upwards in a loud rush just before breaking the surface, drawing in a massive gasp of air as she did. She trod water for a moment, getting her breath back before ducking back under the surface and swimming back towards the show. In only a few short kicks Freya felt her feet drag against the mud and rocks she stood up, finding herself now in waist deep water with the creek passively trickling around her. She sighed and sniffed, rubbing at her face and slicking her hair back across her head to gather the long tresses up in a ponytail and wring as much water as she could out of them. It was only when she shook the water droplets from her eyes that she suddenly realised that she was not alone.

There, standing stock still on the bank just in front of her, holding onto her jacket and staring at her soaked form with an utterly unreadable expression on his face, was Merlin.

Freya froze, her hands still tangled in her hair. Different emotions crashed in waves upon her; shock, dread, euphoria. For a few moments neither Freya nor Merlin moved. A familiar burning sensation in Freya's throat reminded her that there was nothing here to stop her breathing but herself. As she took in a deep, shaky gasp of air it seemed that the world started to move again, albeit rather sluggishly. Freya suddenly felt very unsteady as her bare feet sunk into the mud and the rushing water jostled her about. On the bank the only movement she saw from Merlin was his hands, as they tightened to a white knuckled grip on her coat. It was he who broke the silence.

"What were you thinking?" he asked softly, his voice betraying nothing.

Freya let her hands drop down and wrap around her stomach. "I was hot and thought I'd go for a swim," she replied as if it were the most natural thing in the world to just jump in a creek fully clothed.

Merlin shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face. "No. What were you _thinking_?"

Freya swallowed, but didn't answer.

"Why did you _leave_?" he demanded, taking a step closer to the water, the side of his mouth twitching as the cold mask began to crack. "What, did you think that I'd just drop all this? Did you really think I wouldn't follow you? Freya?"

She couldn't answer him. It was a struggle enough to just breathe for the moment, and she knew she'd never be able to force words past the painful lump in her throat. His voice was harsh, but even worse was the shine to his eyes as he struggled to hold back tears. But tears of anger, hurt or something else, Freya couldn't tell.

"Or maybe that's just what you do when things get a little too hard?" Merlin continued, and this time Freya couldn't mistake the thread of venom in his words. "Maybe you're just the type who runs away, who just abandons everyone they –" Merlin's voice hitched for a moment before he continued "- care about, without a second thought to _them_, just as long as _you_ can keep running away from anything that hurts –"

"That's not true!" croaked out Freya finally, unable to remain silent.

"Then why?" exclaimed Merlin.

Freya felt her head shaking of it's on accord, her bottom lip trembling as she raised her hands palm up in an pleading gesture. Why couldn't he see the obvious? "Merlin, I'm a monster -"

At this Merlin scoffed and rolled his eyes. "I've told you a thousand times, Freya, you're not –"

"_I am a monster!"_ Freya screeched suddenly, smacking her hands down on the water surface so hard that her palms stung. She didn't know where this anger was coming from; all she knew was that it was Merlin's blasé manner that set her off. "And it doesn't matter how many times _you_ say I'm not, or how many times _you_ say it's not important, this is a fact that will _never change_!" Freya felt at the edge of her reason. She knew she must look a sight, drenched and wild eyed, and coupled with the fact that Merlin had never known her to raise her voice, let alone scream, was the very thing that had stunned him into silence. The cold, angry look was gone, replaced with shock and … a hint of sadness? "You don't understand how it feels … _every time_ you tell me I'm not a monster, I feel something twist around inside me determined to prove you wrong. Something dark and violent. It's the beast, I know it is, and it's just waiting until the night when it can be set loose again. And it's not just the fact that I change into an animal – _that_ I can deal with. It's the fact that I am cursed to kill. Over and over again." At that, Freya began to quietly cry. "I killed at least four men last night, Merlin. And so many more before. And I know that you know I don't want to … but I can't help myself. It's a terrible burden, and to share it with anyone else would be beyond selfish. You almost paid for my curse last night." Freya sniffed and wiped at her nose with the sleeve of her shirt. Why not? Any dignity she'd ever had was long gone. "That man nearly killed you, and not even your magic would've saved you. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even have been there! You would've been safe at home, with the people who love you. Not … here." She waved her hand around at the woodland, her face tear streaked and miserable, before dropping her gaze to the rippling water that wrapped around her.

For a moment everything was silent. Then the strangest sound reached Freya's ears. She frowned and blinked away new tears as she tried to figure out what it was. Her eyes widened at the sudden realisation and her head snapped up to find that Merlin was _laughing_ – chuckling very softly to himself as he nodded his head, as if in amazement.

"I understand now," he said, lifting his face to meet Freya's baffled stare. "I thought … when woke to find you had gone, I thought you'd left because were scared of me."

That was the last thing Freya thought he'd say. "What? No, never!"

"Isn't it strange that we're both thinking the same thing, yet from different sides of the fence, if you will," continued Merlin. "I thought you were taking the easy way out. I see now you weren't. You were trying to give _me_ the easy way out. You took the hard choice out of my hands and made it very easy for me to just turn around and return to Camelot. But Freya," he took a step right to the waters edge extending a hand towards her, and Freya felt a shiver run through her that had nothing to do with the cold water. "You need to understand that _I don't want to leave you_. And I know this isn't the easy choice – hell, it probably isn't even the smart one, for either of us!" He grinned and Freya felt shocked that she was able to smile in reply. "But … I … hurt without you. And I know you feel the same. You're willing to give up everything for me, and I you, but the one thing we should never, _ever_ be willing to do, is give up on each other."

Freya felt as if something massive and irreversible had settled upon her, and her world started to spin faster and off kilter. There were only a few moments in a person's life like this one. Where a monumental decision was completely and utterly a matter of free will. Would she go to him or rip him from her life utterly. There were no pressing threats to deal with, no action and reaction. Just a girl and a boy.

Even if the boy just happened to be the most powerful warlock of all time and the girl turn into a mythical beast at midnight. And was currently standing waist deep in a freezing stream.

And suddenly things weren't as difficult as she'd imagined.

As soon as she took that first step towards Merlin she felt the ground become a little more solid beneath her feet, and saw Merlin's smile become bright and easy. As she moved towards him she wondered how she had ever found the strength to walk away. Leaving him behind was like ripping a part of her soul away, a wound so deep it could eventually kill her. But reaching out to him was natural and revitalising as a breath of fresh, clean air. And as she emerged from the water, muddied and soaked to the bone, not a single thought of discomfort crossed her mind because now she was near him again, her small, cold hand slipping easily into his waiting warm one, and the whole world righted itself in response. This was where she was meant to be. For better or worse, this was her home.

As she stepped onto dry land Merlin let out a burst of overjoyed laughter, a single tear breaking free and streaking out the corner of his eye. As Freya beamed up at him he gently cupped her cheek with his large hand, and drew her in for a kiss. At first his lips just hovered over hers, brushing ever so lightly that Freya could have excused the touch for imagination, were it not for the tiny sparks of delight it send shooting down her spine. She tilted her chin up to press more firmly against his mouth and kissed him slow and deep, her tongue curling around his, the taste of him overwhelming her, filling her up and warming her from the inside out. She could feel Merlin's arms move around her, his hands caressing her back and running through her hair. She felt so snug in his arms … then she realised that it wasn't just Merlin's kisses that were heating her up. She pulled back suddenly, opening her eyes to see a fine cloud of steam rising up around her. She looked up wide eyes at Merlin as he continued to hold her close and smile down at her with lazy, half lidded eyes. Freya could feel herself drying off as if she were laying in a pool of blazing summer sunshine and all the fine hairs on her arms stood up in Goosebumps at the sensation. In a moment she was completely dry again, her skin warm and smooth, her clothes light and the mud now turned to dust and flaking away as if it had never been there. She grinned at Merlin as she leaned back slightly, her hand rising to pat down her hair in an unconscious manner.

She froze when she felt something foreign come under her fingertips. Thinking for one terrible moment that some nasty aquatic creature had found a nest in her hair she almost had a fit and threw it aside. But in the next moment she noticed how smooth and soft the item felt. Gently she plucked it from her hair and brought it between Merlin and herself to view it.

A beautiful little bluebell. A perfect little flower. Freya ran her hand lightly over her hair again, and just as she suspected, there were dozens of the tiny flowers hidden in her long dark tresses.

"Uh … would you believe me if I said I didn't mean to do that?" murmured Merlin, slightly bashfully, his hands still splayed around her waist.

"I believe you," answered Freya, nibbling at the corners of her mouth to contain her giggles. "I think I'll leave them there for now, but I'll have to remove them before bed. You can help with that, seeing as how you put them there!"

"Ugh, you're such a slave driver!" sighed Merlin melodramatically, drawing her closer for another kiss. When he draw back again, he left his forehead resting against hers, giving another small sigh that seemed this time to be laced with a touch of sadness. In the same breath as the sigh he whispered out the softest of words. "Please don't leave me again."

"I promise I will never leave you of my own free will," answered Freya just as quietly, placing one of her hands over Merlin's steadily thumping heart. She felt another melancholy sigh tickle her cheek and knew that this wasn't exactly the answer he was looking for, but it was the honest one he would receive. Freya knew now that she could never have a happy life if she and Merlin were alive in this world yet not together. But in her heart she was a pragmatist, and she knew that there were forces in the world that would conspire to separate them.

However, she now also knew with every fibre of her being that she had a damn good reason to fight against that with everything she was.

And with a slow and idle smile, she pulled Merlin down for another kiss.


	7. Iris

It was now the fourth day since the attack. Four days, three nights, and neither Merlin nor Freya had any idea of exactly _where_ they were. In the grand, sprawling forest it was amazingly easy to walk for hours, and to see no great change in the shrubbery that surrounded them. No human sound had reached their ears in all that time and for that Merlin was immensely grateful. The silence was a shelter from the harsh outside world, and it concealed and protected them as they walked through the endless woods. Merlin's forehead twitched into a small frown as he thought. It seemed every time someone came into contact with the two of them, something uncontrollable and volatile exploded, despite all efforts to keep calm. He didn't want to acknowledge it, but he couldn't stop the feeling, deep within his heart, that Freya's curse might have a much longer reaching effects than first thought.

His first instinct in relation to this thought was to bury it, deny it. He wanted to continue with the belief that Freya merely had … a condition. Manageable, and as distance as each dusk was from dawn. The idea that the curses effect could be as long reaching as to draw the dark tendrils of traitorous magic towards them, even in the daylight hours, was something too horrible and distressing to comprehend. All he and Freya ever wanted was peace. Was that really such a selfish desire?

"While I find your little frown very cute, Merlin, it does tend to worry me when it doesn't change for a couple of hours."

Merlin an effort to smooth out his forehead before turning to Freya was a wide and charming smile. "What little frown?"

"I can still see the lines."

"That's because my frowns are never little. They're deep and manly, like the rest of me."

Freya huffed out a reluctant laugh, threaded her fingers through his and rested her cheek against his shoulder as they continued to walk. "These past couple of days have been heaven for me," she murmured. "It's been so calm, so peaceful. Even the nights - when there's only you around me, I don't feel so much like the raging monsters within." She then pulled back to look him in the eyes. "But I'd like to think that I'd never get so lost in my own joy not to notice your pain."

"I'm not in pain. I'm in … thought."

"Unpleasant thoughts, I think."

Merlin sighed, stopped walking and took both of Freya's hands in his. "I'm thinking about your curse."

Freya carefully schooled her face into a mask of calm. "Okay."

"I was thinking …" he sighed, struggling to arrange his thoughts. "I was thinking that perhaps the curse is more complicated than we first thought. Maybe it's not just forcing you to become a terrible creature and …" he drifted off, swallowed before continuing. "Maybe it's also determined to make sure that there will always be some outside influence that will leave you no choice."

"What do you mean?" asked Freya carefully.

"You said you accidentally killed the son of a powerful sorceress, after he attacked you." Freya's fingers tightened on his, but she didn't look away. "And every time you've … killed … you never started the fight. Someone else has attacked you first. I think … it looks like the same story is being played out over and over again."

"Until I met you." whispered Freya.

"Until you met me." he echoed with a smile. "I don't know what it is about me, about us. Maybe it's because we can both feel the magic flowing around us. Maybe it's because we can both actually see each other, when no one else can. But whatever it is, I feel that as long as we're together - and the rest of the world is kept well away - then you should never feel the urge to hurt anyone again."

Freya looked down at their joined hands, one finger lightly running along Merlin's work hardened knuckles. "It's not the best solution, though, is it?" she said softly. "Either running in fear or completely detaching ourselves from the world."

"I wouldn't mind." said Merlin, but Freya cut him off with a soft laugh.

"Yes, you would." she said. "You would. Not at first, of course, and you'd never say a bad thing or blame me in anyway but, Merlin," she raised her hand to cup his cheek. "Even before you met me you had a secret to carry, the secret of the magic within you. With the court so full of people there must have always been the fear that someone would notice, that something would betray you and lead to your death. But even then, did you ever once consider the idea of leaving everyone and everything behind, to go and live off by yourself in the woods?"

Merlin's mouth twisted in thought. "I keep forgetting that you never properly met Arthur."

Freya smiled. "Think about it. Neither you nor I have the heart to live in isolation."

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but one look at Freya's open, understanding face stopped him. She was right. Plain and simple. He wasn't one for locking himself away even when in Camelot. His mind flickered back to the very first day he entered that city. The rush and bustle of hundreds of people going to and fro, all with their own lives, dream, hopes and desires had left him with the widest grin and the lightest feeling in his chest. Merlin loved people, he loved the activity, the noise of so many busy lives. He still loved the small village he grew up in but there was no denying that he loved that bigger city more. She was right. He'd come to resent the silence and isolation, even if it was with her.

Merlin let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping. "So now what?" he asked. "We're in danger surrounded by people, because regardless of what we do the curse will attract those wishing to hurt us, and we can't wander the forest forever, so … where does that leave us?"

Freya shrugged and drew in a deep breath, looking up at the canopy of sun dappled spring leaves that we hanging still and silent above them as if they could whisper the answer they needed.

And in spite of everything Merlin found himself staring at the arch of her long, pale neck, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to trace his lips along the sweep of her throat and taste the skin there. Unknowingly, his lips parted and he found himself leaning slightly forwards …

"We need to find her." Freya dropped her chin to look Merlin in the eyes.

"Wait, what … who? Her? What?" stammered Merlin. He cleared his throat noisily and smiled, while Freya stared at him like he'd sprouted horns.

"We need to find the sorceress who cursed me." said Freya, carefully pronouncing each word as if worried that Merlin might not be able to understand without help. "We need to get her to free me."

This dumped a heap of cold water on whatever lingering madness still rushed through his veins. For a moment all he could do was stare, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he struggled to find the right words to this proposition. "Freya," he said at last, speaking as slowly as she had. "You know how crazy that sounds, right?"

"Probably more so than you," she sighed sadly. "I … I killed her son. Her only child. Her rage is to be expected, her vengeance understandable. But … I can't keep living like this. _We_ can't."

"I don't see how someone who had such hate within them to cast such a powerful, cruel curse could ever be persuaded to lift it." said Merlin, shaking his head.

"Well, do you know of any other way to be free of this life we're living?" asked Freya. "I know that if it were in your power, you would've lifted the curse already."

"Of course I would've!" he grasped her hands even tighter and tugged them to his chest, pulling her even closer. "But, Freya, think about this …"

"I have been thinking about it, Merlin. Actually, I've been thinking about this for a while now, even before I met you. I've been this way for a year now, one terribly long year …" She left loose a shuddering sigh and leaned in closer to rest her head on his chest, just above the jumble of their clasped hands. "And I was in utter despair when you saw me in that cage. I was ready to take any punishment the King was going to, even if that meant me meeting the executioner's axe. And if I somehow escaped that fate, I was determined to seek out the sorceress and ask her - _beg her_ - to release me. Whatever form that release would take."

At this Merlin tugged his hands free of hers, then flung them around her shoulders and back, holding her closer to him. "Please don't." he whispered.

"I won't," she breathed in his ear, warm and soft. "I don't want to die, Merlin. Not now that I've met you. But we can't keep pretending that this is the life either of us wanted. Always running, always scared. There's only one person who can free us, and even if it's the one person in this world least likely to want to we still have to try. We _have_ to try."

Merlin closed his eyes and turned his cheek to crown of Freya's head, planting a firm kiss in the tangle of her hair. She was right. Again. They had one massive problem between them, and their only solution that was one hell of a long shot. He let loose a shaky sigh, soft words almost lost against her skin.

"What did you say?" she asked, pulling back.

Merlin swallowed, and then repeated, "I'm afraid. I don't want to loose you."

For a second Freya's deep, dark eyes were utterly unreadable, then she reached upwards and caught his lips with her own. The kiss was sudden and her lips were dry, but half a heartbeat was all the time missed before Merlin matched her, his long around twining themselves around her waist and pulling her up as far as her toes would stretch. Her sweet tongue darted out between his lips and it was only a moment before he matched her there too, tasting her, feeding on her warmth, wanting to be closer than he'd ever been to anyone before, even letting a touch of desperation enter into his kisses as he'd never allowed before. _Don't go,_ his mind whispered, hands splayed over her back, _don't go, don't leave me, please don't leave me, I'm afraid, I'm afraid of this sorceress, I'm afraid of this curse, I'm afraid you'll die, I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid …_

"I'm afraid, too." It wasn't until her low voice reverberated through him, almost as if the words had come from his own lips, that he realised that he'd been talking aloud as he'd kissed her. They'd stopped, but Freya hadn't attempted to move back and Merlin was more than content to hold her close, eyes closed, forehead leaning against hers. "I am just as scared by all this as you. I know that this will most likely lead to my death." At this Merlin let out a little groan and held her tighter, but she went on. "And it could even … lead to yours," she croaked. "But there is no other way. Either we lift this curse or you will loose me. Someday, somehow, something will go wrong. You know it will. And I'll be lost. So, yes, I am afraid of what we must do. But I'm more afraid of standing still."

Maybe he was still heady from her kisses, or maybe he was getting disorientated from have his eyes closed for too long, but Merlin could swear that he could feel the earth slowly rolling under his feet as the weight of her words settled upon his heart. She was absolutely right. Again. There was only one way forward, and that was through Hell.

Slowly, he relaxed his hands against her back and gently pulled away. As he gazed down into her beautiful face, eyes bright, lips pink and swollen, and a light flush still glowing high on her cheeks and along her lovely neck, he felt a sudden wave of resolution wash over him. It would be Hell to get this curse lifted, and it would be a miracle if they both got out of this unscathed, but if there was ever anyone that he would brave Hell for, it was her.

"Okay," he breathed, taking a step back but still unable to remove his hands from her waist. "Where do we start?"

She smiled up at him, her usual small, sad smile, but this time there was a hint of something steely and strong in those dark eyes that he'd never seen before. "The sorceress comes from a place called Caer-Didi, which is to the south east of here. It's a small village nestled right by the ocean, where the people are mostly left to themselves. It's hard to get to from here, and most people that visit come by boat."

"A perfect place to live, if you want to stay out of Uther's reach." nodded Merlin. "How long do you think it will take us to reach it?"

Freya bit her lip in thought, and it was all Merlin could do not to gently follow suit with his own teeth. "Two weeks, at least. Maybe more, if we have to continue to avoid people."

"Two weeks." he repeated, clearing his throat. "Well, we'd better get a move on."

They finally drew apart, and Merlin wondered if she felt the cold as keenly as he did just then. For a few lingering moment, all they did was stare at each other, then Freya suddenly gave a short laugh and started to swing her arms.

"But before all that … I am rather hungry, aren't you?"

"Starved." agreed Merlin. "And I think I'd better start getting a little bit more magical practice in along the way so … watch this."

He shook his hands for a moment, as if trying to shake water off them, then brought them together in a sharp, loud clap and burst of bright magic that made unwary birds take flight in offence. And once he widened his hands he revealed.

"Irises!" exclaimed Freya, delightfully plucking one the delicate white and purple blooms that were now overflowing from Merlin's out stretched palms. She shot a wicked grin as she twirled the flower between her fingers. "How tasty."

"And exactly what I intended to do," laughed Merlin.


	8. Sea-Holly

**Hello All,**

**I know I've been absent for a long while, but I'm back now and determined to finish this ****fic. And now I have an actual direction and I even know the ending. That's one reason why I paused before, as I was pretty much just writing drabbles rather than a real fic, but now I've seen the light (so to speak) and will have this completed before the year is out. (Realistic timeframe, people!)**

**Also, I'd like to shout out a massive thanks to all those who still reviewed, even when the update said '2 years ago'. You guys ****guilted**** encouraged me to continue. This chapter is for you!**

**katalizi**

"I smell smoke."

Freya slowly rose to her feet, neglecting her lunch of roots and berries as she sniffed cautiously at the air. Merlin remained where he was, sitting crossed legged next to their small bounty of food. He frowned and sucked in a deep breath through his nose, holding it for a moment before releasing it in a massive whoosh.

"Really? I can't smell anything."

"Well, it's definitely there," answered Freya, looking about her as if the source of the odour would show itself. "Faint, but maybe it's a benefit of being half cat - my sense of smell is more acute than it used to be."

Merlin shoved the rest of the berries in his mouth and chewed noisily. "Then it's not too close, hopefully."

"You look so disgusting when you talk with your mouth full."

"Sorry," he said, but as he blurted out his apology, small specks of berries came flying out with it. Freya raised her eyebrows and Merlin covered his mouth, eyes shameful. "Yeah, sorry about that, too."

Freya _tsked_, then walked a small distance away, looking up at the massive trees that surrounded them. At the moment thick shafts of midday sunlight speared their way down through the branches, leaving hot pools of light scattered across the small clearing where she and Merlin had decided to take their lunch. Freya had been more than happy about how the weather had been holding out the past week, with nothing but sunshine and pleasant nights, but as she gazed above her she could see streaks of clouds skimming high in the blue above them and feel the cooler breeze that usually preceded rain. She shivered slightly at the thought of being caught out in a storm. The quiet, fantasy life she and Merlin had been living in the woods wouldn't last long if they both ended up soaked and freezing.

She walked up to the nearest oak and, with a practiced ease, hoisted herself up into its branches, jumping from limb to limb like a squirrel.

"What are you doing?" cried Merlin, his face adored with a delighted smile.

Freya hooked one hand around a sturdy branch and swung out so that while one foot was still placed securely on the tree trunk, the other just dangled in the air. "I'm getting a better look around. I want to see where that smoke is coming from."

"I still can't smell anything," muttered Merlin with a shrug.

In a few minutes Freya was amongst the few top branches that dipped and bent under her weight, and from that vantage point she could see the lay of the land for miles. Her breath caught as she realised exactly where she source of the smoke was coming from.

Both she and Merlin had been wrong earlier that morning, when they'd tried to figure out their exact location in this seemingly never-ending forest. When they had decided to go to Cear-Didi and find the sorceress, they had turned in the direction that they believed to be south, hoping to at some point reach the coast and maybe even barter their way onto a boat that would take them straight to Cear-Didi. They had both been more than a little worried about putting Freya on a boat - confiding the nighttime beast to a tiny space out on the open water didn't in any way strike them as a good plan - but in the end they had both agreed that time was of the essence. They could reach Cear-Didi over land, but that path was long and perilous, and it was more than likely that they'd come across some more unsavoury characters like the villager's that they'd met earlier. There was a lot of littles risks involved with travelling by land. Or they could take the one gigantic risk and get there a whole week earlier.

They had been walking south for two days, and that morning had agreed that there was probably another three days trek was ahead of them until the reached the water. But as Freya sat nestled in the tree tops, she saw the sweeping green and golden tree tops of the forest roll down like the richest of carpet until it was sharply cut of by the brilliant deep blue of the ocean, the midday sun reflecting off the water in dazzling bursts. And in between the ocean and the land lay a decent sized fishing village, that not only had a long pier running out into the sea with smaller boats tied to it and sitting harbour, but it was complete with a town hall, church and even a large estate at the edge of town that looked like someone from the gentry might there. Dotted all around these three massive buildings where a collection of smaller places, homes and shops, and from more than one chimney delicate plumes of white smoke curled upwards, the only indication of life that Freya could see from that distance.

A passing breeze drifted by bringing with it a stronger hint of smoke and raising her dark, unwashed hair from the back of her neck, making it dance around her lovely, pale face. Freya felt her face relax into a wide smile and she let loose a little laugh as the reality that half the journey was already over began to sink in.

By the time she'd scrambled down the tree and landed daintily back on solid ground, Merlin had already collected the remaining scrapes of their food and safely pocketed them away, and was now relaxing in one of those spot of light. He was leaning against the trunk of another tree with his face upturned so better catch the sun's warmth, a slight, contented smile tugging at his lips. When he heard the thud of Freya returning to earth he cracked open one eye and squinted at her through the sunlight. "Have fun up there?"

"More than you know," grinned Freya. "You wouldn't believe it, but we've already reached the coast!"

Merlin now opened both his eyes wide. "Really?"

"Not only that," said Freya, walking up to stand in front of him and offering her hand to help him up. "But there was smoke in the air, and it's coming from a fishing village, not even an hour's walk away!"

Merlin grabbed onto Freya's outstretched hand and heaved himself up, but once he was on his feet his smile started to fade. Freya noticed and frowned.

"What's wrong? We're days closer than what we thought - isn't that good?"

"Yes, of course it is!" Merlin tried to smile, but it came off as tight and false, and disappeared completely under Freya's knowing look. The hand holding hers gripped a little tighter. "It's just … we haven't had to be around people for a while now. Aren't you worried about …"

"The beast?" finished Freya. She blew out a long sigh and shuffled closer so she could lay her cheek against Merlin's chest and feel the strong, steady beat of his heart. "Yes, I am. But, truth be told, I find that I'm not nearly as concerned as I have been in the past."

Merlin ducked his chin down to rest it on Freya's head, so that when he spoke she could feel his voice reverberate through her own body. "Why not?"

Freya pulled back so that he could clearly see her smile. "Because of you. I trust you to keep me safe. I trust you to keep me sane."

"And I will do everything in my power to be deserving of such trust." Merlin answered, sealing his promise with a kiss.

By the time the two of them reached the outskirts of the town the sun had started to dip down from its zenith and slide towards west, but it wasn't so late in the day that people had begun to retire. A soft hum of people at work drifted over them as they started to walk down hard trodden streets, changing their steps as to better move with the motion of the crowds. Freya started to feel her heart beat heavy and hard in her chest as she clung to Merlin as did her best to avoid the stream of people that passed by on either side. She had not been lying when she'd told Merlin that she wasn't as afraid to enter the town as she would've been in days past, but that didn't mean that she was completely without anxiety. Those two long weeks that she and Merlin had spent in the forest, living off the land and having no-one's searching eyes upon them had been paradise for her, a sweet and luscious dream, and now she had awoken into a world of jumbled sound and motion. A high pitched shrieking noise caused her to jump and her hand that was holding Merlin's squeezed it so tight that she felt her nails dig into the skin on the back of his hand, before she realised that it was merely a group of small children running down the street, playing some sort of tag game and screaming at each other in delight. She let out a shaky breath and loosened her grip on Merlin's poor, battered hand, and while he didn't say a word she felt the lightest brush of his lips against the skin on her forehead.

They made their way through the bustling streets Freya noticed that there seemed to be a taste of excitement in the air. Those playful children weren't the only ones running amuck. Everywhere they went she saw signs of celebration, from brightly colour streamers flowing from high windows, to groups of ladies wearing what looked like their best clothes and the sweet smell of a thousand tasty meals cooking wafting throughout every lane. As they went deeper into the town the walked right past what looked like to be the heart of the party, the large, foreboding structure of the Great Hall. A steady stream of men and women moving with great purpose in and out of the wide front doors, some carrying large bundles of what appeared to be a mixture of cloth and food with others loaded down by more mundane things like chairs and cleaning materials, while all around there were a slew of carriages bringing in more supplies.

"Looks like this town's having a party," remarked Merlin. "Good."

"Good, how?" asked Freya, her eyes wide as she gazed at all those rushing figures.

"Well, if the town as a whole are celebrating something that means everyone's going to be more relaxed which, as a rule, means they're not going to notice a couple of a quiet strangers wandering by." He smiled and tucked her closer to his side as they neatly side-stepped a small woman who was almost overloaded with a tray of freshly baked bread.

As the sweet smelling bounty passed by Freya felt her mouth water and as if on cue she heard the rumble of Merlin's stomach answer it. Root and leaves and berries were all well and good when you had no other choice, but as the smell of feasting swum around her Freya suddenly realised exactly how much she missed good, solid food.

"Oh, I didn't realise how hungry I was until right now," moaned Merlin.

"Well lets just get down to the docks first of all, find out if there's any ships going soon, and then we'll do something about dinner."

Merlin nodded in agreement, and after another half an hour of dodging through the crowds they at last broke free of the confines of the broke township and found themselves right at the edge of the land, looking down at a long stretching beach that was now glistening in the afternoon light that gradually melted into the sea. Now that they had reached the water and could properly view what boats were available, both Freya and Merlin felt their hearts sink a little. There was nothing docked in the harbour that was more than a humble little fishing boat, the type that had probably never left the safety of the harbour, let alone made a long seafaring journey.

"Do you think we'll even find passage on one of these?" asked Freya, shivering slightly and wrapping her arms around herself as the cutting sea breeze came up off the cold water.

"Even if we don't, this'll just be a small moment's set back. We'll find a way. I promise." Merlin noticed her discomfort and shrugged off his jacket, tucking it around her slim shoulders. She smiled at the gesture and felt her heart soar as his hands lingered longer than they needed to, his long fingers ever so lightly tracing their way through the whips of her hair that hung out around her face. She felt a little tickle at her cheek and Merlin pulled his hand back to reveal a small and spiky sprig of sea-holly. Freya grinned, stretched up onto her tiptoes to peck him on the lips, then took the flower in hand as they continued walking.

They spent some time walking along the water's edge, almost from one side of town to another, before they came across a small inn on the outskirts of the town that had a faded sign out the front of it, claiming to be 'The Queen's Head'. Unlike everywhere else that was electric with noise and bustle, 'The Queen's Head' seemed to be rather quiet. With a shrug from Freya the two of them went inside.

The inside was pleasantly warm with a fire burning happily at each end of the common area and the smell of fresh straw mixed nicely with smell of a good, hearty soup cooking in the kitchens. The place, while obviously in need of some repair, was tidy and well kept with an air of respectability that other establishments sometimes lack. Merlin and Freya weren't the only ones present. While the place was nearly as busy as the rest of town, there were still a fair few people milling about, weather hardened fishermen and farmers all cheerfully shared a drink, and groups of men and women who were clearly having a pre-celebration before whatever was happening in town all happily chattered about, leaving a soothing din in the air. Freya and Merlin headed to a spare table near one of the fireplaces, Freya's bare feet stepping carefully as to avoid treading in any unsavoury things that might've been spilt on the floor, and once they were seated they turned their attention to the rest of the room.

"What now?" asked Freya. She could see Merlin looking carefully around the room and could tell that he was forming some sort of plan. She followed where his gaze was directed and found herself looking up at the bar, where a harried looking barmaid was rushing back and forth, trying to serve ten people at once.

"Har there, Sally!" came the deep grumble from a man at the far end of the bar. He waved a large tankard in her direction. "I'm needed a top up, here!"

"Well, get in line!" answered a skinny looking fellow, who was seated with four other men around him at one of the long tables. "We've been waiting on our meal for an hour now!"

A chorus of despondent yells went up from the patrons at this, and Sally the barmaid looked almost close to tears.

"Well, just keep waiting!" she yelled back, her voice high pitched and wavering like one who was barely keeping it together. "It's only me working here tonight, and I can only go as fast as I can go!"

Another wave of unhappy boos wash around the small room, but to Freya's amazement she saw a little smile creep it's way onto Merlin's face. "I have an idea," he whispered, and with a quick peck on the cheek he was up and moving towards the bar. He shouldered his way though the throng of people until he was able to prop his elbows up on the sticky surface of the countertop. Up close Sally looked even more frazzled, with spots of red high on her rounded cheeks and tiny little rivers of sweat beginning to leak down from under the scarf that was holding her hair in place. She saw him and quickly waved a hand in front of his face to ward off any requests, grabbing an empty tankard from the nearest fellow and quickly filling it.

"Sorry sir, but I really am so busy right now, I'll come back and get your drink as soon as I'm able!" she said, finishing off one tankard and smoothly transitioning to another.

"I don't want a drink."

"Well, that's a blessing!"

"No, I want to help."

At this Sally paused a moment, then finished with the tankard, put her hands on her plump hips and fixed Merlin with a hard look. "And what do you mean by that?"

"Me and my … friend …" he stumbled over the word, then quickly went on. "We need some food and a place to stay, but we haven't any money. I've worked in service before, I know how to serve a pint. I will work for a room and a meal tonight."

Sally's gaze narrowed, then shifted to where Freya sat quietly near the fireplace, absentmindedly playing with the sea-holly. "That your 'friend' over there?"

Merlin swallowed and nodded. "Well, more like … betrothed, really." As he said the word, his mouth went dry and the bottom of his stomach seemed to fall out. In one instant all the blood rushed from his heart and in the next it all came flooding back. He let out a whoosh of breath and he tried to keep his head. He'd thought the word, certainly, dreamt it, but never before had he said it out loud. In a way it felt so absolutely right - yet in another, he felt a sense of betrayal that he had yet to say the words to Freya herself. He told himself he was just trying to avoid complications with Sally, but in truth he knew he simply adored the idea of making Freya his, and he hers.

Sally's expression didn't change. "Bit strange, isn't it? Two young betrothed, with no family by the looks of it and no money between them."

"Very strange," agreed Merlin. "We've had … a bit of trouble. People not too happy that we want to be together. It's been a long, complicated story."

"I'm sure," nodded Sally, her face unreadable. "Full of romance and intrigue."

"Very much," said Merlin seriously. "But it all boils down to this - we need somewhere to stay and food to eat. I promise we won't be any trouble, and I can give you all the help you need tonight."

For several agonising seconds Sally said absolutely nothing, standing stock still with her fists firmly planted on her hips. Then she heaved a massive sigh and shrugged. "Any port in a storm, lad, and I _really_ need some help tonight."

Merlin's face split into a wide grin and he leapt to his feet. "I'll get started straight away!"

"That'd be grand." Sally went over and opened a small side door allowing Merlin behind the bar. "You can start by looking after these thirsty beggars, and I'l get to serving up that soup. I'll see that your _betrothed_ gets a bowlful, too. Oh, and what's your name?"

"Uh, Leon."

"Sure," she drew the word out slowly, then raised her voice. "Oi, you lot!" The noise at the bar dropped for a moment. "This here's Leon! He's the new barkeep, so be nice and come up for your fill!"

A cheer went up from the crowd and the next moment Merlin's vision was filled with tankards all begging to be refilled.

For the next hour Merlin worked away quiet happily, pour out ale and cider at a pace that kept the patrons happy and even made Sally nod appreciatively. He noticed out the corner of his eye that Sally was good to her word, and Freya had a steaming bowl of beef and potato soup, fresh, crusty bread and a tankard of water at her side before the skinny man and his friends, and that made his heart warm a little more towards Sally. She also informed him that there was a small room waiting for them at the end of the night, up on the second storey and to the back of the little inn. With food and shelter secured, Merlin begun to finally feel a little bit of tension slip from his bones.

Sally stomped back behind the bar and towards the kitchen, her hands full of empty plates and bowls. "Phew, what a rush!" she said, scrubbing the back of her hand across her forehead.

"Can I just ask," said Merlin as he poured cider into a waiting cup. "Where's all your help? Surely it's not just you here in this place."

"Not usually, no," answered Sally. "But you might've seen all that hullabaloo going on in town today?"

"We did notice that."

"Well, we've got some fancy out of towner's coming in today, and Sir Triolus is making sure the whole village turns out and has a lovely celebration. And of course, all the young people want to get involved in something like this, bit of excitement, you know?" Sally gave a massive sigh as she put her hands to the small of her back and stretched. "I didn't know it'd be this busy tonight." she said. "In fact, I thought it was going to be _quiet_. I should never have given Tom and Pat the night off. But really, this whole thing is a lot of old fuss over nothing, I think. Ol' Triolus getting all bother over some visiting royalty. But what royalty is doing so far out in the middle of nowhere is anyone's guess!"

At her words Merlin froze in his task of yet another refill, the knuckles on his hands going white as he clasped the handle of the jug in a death grip. "Royalty?" he asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

"A prince," nodded Sally, unaware of how the colour drained from Merlin's face. "Prince Arthur, of Camelot."


	9. Cloudberry

_"__Prince Arthur, of Camelot."_

Those words rung around Merlin's skull as if Sally had struck him with this information, rather than having just spoken of it in an offhand manner. She herself didn't notice any change in Merlin's demeanour as she had much pressing matters to deal with, like the scrawny, beaky man who was trying to pick a fight with a large, lumbering slump who was as irritated by the inconvenience as he would've been by some rather persistent flies.

"Oi! You stop that now! I'll be having none of that nonsense in my establishment!" shouted Sally, striding off into battle and leaving Merlin with his thoughts.

Merlin gave himself a shake, and tried to focus on his work, but his heart now pounded at a pace and he noticed his hands shaking as he picked up a couple of abandoned tankards. Arthur! Here, of all places! If he wasn't so stunned by this he might've laughed. It had been weeks since he and Freya had escaped Camelot, and aside from the terrifying incident with Safir and his men, they had been pretty much on their own. And then, by a complete random occurrence, they'd found themselves in exactly the same position they'd been in when they met - hiding from the knights of Camelot. Because the truth was, as shocked as Merlin was to discover that Arthur was right here in the same tiny village as them, he didn't for one moment believe that he and Freya were the reason behind the royal visit. There was no way they could've been traced - with Freya providing them flight, it was impossible to track the wind - and there was also no way that Arthur could've learnt about her curse or her origins. He wouldn't have been interested in something as mundane as discovering exactly _why_ a young woman transformed into a horrid beast. Merlin ground his teeth slightly as he automatically refilled yet another gaping jug. He respected Arthur, even admired him for a multitude of reasons, but the biggest blind spot in Arthur's reasonings was following in his father's footsteps in his abhorrence of all things magic, rather than allowing himself a chance to experience such things and draw his own conclusions. In the world of Camelot magic, and all who practiced it, was unquestionably evil. This was a pure, simple, unchangeable fact. That was why Merlin knew that, no matter what regard he felt for the man or what affection Arthur showed him, he could never truly show Arthur what kind of man he really was. He knew he would never be accepted in Uther's world, in Arthur's. And his own brand of magic, which came as naturally to him as breathing did to others, was positively harmless compared to the curse that Freya was inflicted with. How could he possible explain that Freya wasn't a threat? How could he possibly expect Arthur to even listen?

"Merlin?"

Merlin started at this closely and softly spoken call, slopping a good portion of ale over the lip of the tankard he was filling and soaking the sleeve of his shirt. "Agh!"

Freya also started backwards at his unexpectedly violent reaction, throwing up both her hands as a sign of peace. "Merlin! Whatever's gotten into you?"

"Me? What? Nothing." answered Merlin, shaking the excess liquid off his arm and struggling to look nonchalant. It didn't work. Freya pressed her lips together in a judgemental pout and folded her arms and it was a credit to both of them that she didn't need to do anything else to get him to confesses. "I've just heard some news," he started, dropping his voice so Freya had to lean in closer to hear him above the din. "It's not good news, but … well …." he swallowed. "You know all those preparations we saw as we came into the village this afternoon?" Freya nodded. "It was for Arthur. He's here, now, and it's likely there's a whole lot more knights of Camelot with him."

Even in the dim light of the public house Merlin could see what little colour she had in her face slowly drain away at these words, her dark eyes burning black, her lips still firmly closed. Merlin reach out and placed his warm hand over the top of her cold one, terrified of how she - or rather, the creature she could be - would react to such news. But then she took a deep, shuddering breath through her nose, closed her eyes and seemed to draw herself inwards for long, silent moment, and then, opening her eyes, she met his stare with a clear determination and simply said, "So. What do we do now?"

Merlin released a shaky, stale puff of breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and gripped her fingers tighter. "We don't do anything. They're not here for us, I'm sure of it. This is just one awful coincidence. So, we lay low. Stay in our room, avoid talking too much, avoid going out unless we absolutely have to."

Freya nodded, her jaw clenched. "How long do you think they're going to stay?"

"Things like this are usually pretty short lasting," said Merlin, eyes becoming unfocused as he cast his mind back to when he'd attended on Arthur at similar events. "This is a small down with a small lord, and I doubt the Prince of Camelot is here for anything more than the yearly tour of the provinces. They'll feast, talk business tomorrow and leave the following day."

Freya gripped at his hand. "We might not even be here then."

"What do you mean?"

Freya smiled and nodded towards the far table in the tavern, where a group of roughly garbed men where jovially toasting each other's good health. "You're not the only one whose been working hard this evening. While you were busy, I was just happened to casually mention to Sally that you and I were looking for passage along the coastline. I didn't say where exactly and, bless her, she just gave me a solid nod and pointed me in the direction of those men."

"They have a boat?"

"No, but they do trade with any and all ships that dock here. They told me of a ship called the _Golden Grove_ that regularly makes its way back and forth along the coastline, trading between here and Caer-Didi. And guess what? The ship is due in port tomorrow."

Merlin's grip tighten on her hand. "That's … that's fantastic!"

Freya nodded, a shaky smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "So all we have to do is lay low tonight and get out tomorrow."

"Yeah, because we never have any unexpected trouble, do we?" smiled Merlin wryly.

"Not tonight, we won't." said Freya firmly, before she pushed herself up and over the counter to peck Merlin lightly on the lips, leaving him slightly dazed at this casual intimacy. "Which is why I'm going to our room right now. I'm throughly done with unexpected surprises."

With a final faint smile she went straight for a narrow passage way that lead to the accommodations at the back of the tavern. Merlin watched her go, and tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that had settled in the pit of his gut. He stayed, staring after Freya, until a loud voice broke through his thoughts.

"Hey, boy! Me drink ain't gonna pour itself!"

* * *

><p>The room Sally had given them was small and sparsely furnished, with nothing more than an ancient bed with a lumpy mattress, a small, cracked mirror hanging on the opposite wall, a single chair and a small, low table tucked into the far corner, but it was quite, clean and well kept and Freya could easily imagine Sally's pride at keeping such a place comfortable and practical. There was a single lit candle on the small table, but it's ruddy orange glow was nearly drowned out by the soft silver wave of moonlight that poured in through the open window. Everything was still and peaceful, and as Freya sat in the middle of the bed, legs tucked underneath her, face turned towards the window, she seemed every bit as still and peaceful as her surroundings. At least, a quick glance would make it appear that way.<p>

A closer look would reveal that even though she wasn't moving, her chest was heaving up and down as she took quick, shallow breaths and her hands were clenched together so hard that her knuckles had turned white and her nails were beginning to leave dangerous indentations in her palms. Freya was absolutely terrified.

She continued to stare out the window, keeping her eyes fixed on the sweeping spires and tall towers that made up the Town Hall. While there were small lights dripping from the windows of various home in the village, they were nothing more than sparks in the night compare to the roaring blaze that was Town Hall. Light gushed from every window of that great building, almost seemed to squeeze its way through any little crack in the walls it could find, as if the Hall was filled to bursting point with fire. Even though their little tavern was a fair distance away Freya could hear the faint noises of merriment rising up from the pool of light, laugher and shouts mingled with constant music playing a song she couldn't quite make out, and as she stared she thought for a moment that she could almost smell the heady aroma of succulent meats and sweets and bread and soups …

Freya jerked back in fright, the first movement she'd made since she'd come into this room all alone. She _could_ smell the feast. As she took a deep, shuddering breath the music, which before had been nothing but a din of noise, noticeably sharpened to the point where she could actually make out the voice of the singer who accompanied the musicians. Freya felt panic rise up inside her like bile rising up in the back of her throat to choke her. No, no, no, it was too early! The change can't be happening now, she thought, it was much too early in the night for that! She tried to take a steading breath, but nearly screaming in fright as a faint growl emerged from her all too human lips. Her hands finally unclenched to fly up and cover her mouth. No! She couldn't change now! She won't!

Her breathing now came in short, sharp gasps as she kept her hands tightly across her mouth, as if that could somehow keep the beast inside. This is what she was terrified of, a fear that had jumped to the front of her mind the moment Merlin told her that Prince Arthur was so close she could almost smell him. He was a threat, a known threat to both her and to Merlin, and if the bastet hated anything it was being threatened. The look on Merlin's face when he told her about the Prince's arrival had been enough at the time to help her keep her fear at bay; she could tell that he was worried about how she - and the monster - would react to such news. She did her best to calm him, hoping that would in turn calm her, and then fled for their quiet room as quickly as possible. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to slow her breathing as the warbling voice of the distance singer continued to slide into her ears. She had to stay calm! She couldn't change alone, she had to wait for Merlin. Before she met him, she never knew herself when she was the beast and any memory of the terrible things she did would play out like half formed nightmares for her the next morning. But with Merlin at her side something of her own mind could surface from beneath the primal urge to _rip, tear, kill_. She could still think, she could still be Freya. But that was only when she had Merlin with her to remind her _who Freya was_.

As her breathing slowed she cautiously opened her eyes - and then slammed them shut in pain as a wave of light washed over her. The small, flickering candle had become a blazing inferno roaring in the corner of the room. Squinting, Freya narrowly opened her eyes a fraction and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror opposite her. Her eyes, usually so deep and dark, now blazed golden.

And in that one moment the world went completely still.

The light from the conner of the room was almost blinding in its intensity, but Freya didn't again close her eyes. Instead, she stared at the face in the cracked pane, so alike yet so alien. Very slowly she lower her hands and watched, fascinated, as the being in the pane copied her. Freya tilted her head to one side; the being in the mirror followed. She tilted her head the other way; and again. Yes. This was her. The pale face. The dark hair. The bright, bright eyes. She could feel the light from the candle burning her on one side. On the other, the silver moonlight was freezing. Foul, disjointed music continued to rattle in her ears and the rotting flesh of the feast nearly gagged her. This was her. Freya smiled. The being's mouth stretched to flash long, white fangs.

This was her.

She was not afraid.

She would never be afraid again.

* * *

><p>The unsettled feeling still hadn't left Merlin by the time the customers had started to dwindle, and he was so distracted that even Sally began to notice.<p>

"Well, Leon," she began, as she deposited a tray full of empty tankards on the bar top. "You've been heaven sent for your help tonight, but I get the feeling you'd rather be elsewhere." When he didn't respond, she tried a little louder. "Leon!"

"Hey! What, yes?" Merlin jumped and quickly grabbed a tankard to fill it, even though there was no customer waiting. Sally let a small grin twist one side of her mouth as she reached over and plucked the useless tankard out of his hands. It was only then that Merlin realised that the tavern was almost empty. "Wow. That finished quickly."

"These were the ones that wouldn't have a place at that feast, ya see," said Sally, grabbing even more used plates and cups and sliding behind the bar. "They came, they ate, they drank … and now they're off for more merriment at the festival. And I'm guessing that's where you'd like to be?"

"No." said Merlin so sharply that Sally's eyebrows shot up. "I mean," he tried to hastily cover, "Fre- my betrothed … she's not one for parties. Me neither, really."

Sally nodded. "Fair enough. Look, I don't need any more help tonight and you look like you need some rest, if you ask me. So get going to your _betrothed_."

Merlin ignored how her eyes sparkled on that last word and thankfully darted out for behind the bar, heading for the back of the tavern. But a thought struck him and he stopped, and turned back around.

"Sally," he began. "I - thank you."

Sally just snorted and waved a dismissive hand. "You helped me, I helped you, and the world keeps spinning. Now get."

Merlin grinned and darted down the now darkened passageway. In the spur of the moment he cast a quick spell, soft golden slight swirling between his two cupped hands smiling as a little orange cloudberry bloomed into life.

But he smile slowly slide off his face as he approached the door to the room Freya was supposed to be in; it was the only one with the glow of a light shining from beneath the firmly closed door. As Merlin got closer he could hear a light scratching noise coming from behind the door. He put his hand to the handle, then paused. Should he knock? Surely Freya was expecting him. But then again … it would be polite to knock. He let go of the handle and lightly rapped his knuckles against the rough wood. Immediately the scratching noise stopped.

"Freya?" he called softly. There was no response. No noise at all. Merlin cleared his throat, trying to control the wave of fear that was building in the pit of his stomach. It couldn't be … it was much too early. But then, how much did he really know about this curse? "Freya?" he tried again, louder. There was a moment more of agonising silence, then a long, drawn out creak shivered in the otherwise still night. That was enough suspense for Merlin. He gripped the handle, turned, and threw the door open.

The cloudberry fell for his listless hands and lay forgotten on the dusty floor.

And he felt all his fears realised at once.

Freya - or, a thing that looked like Freya - was crouched on the sill of the now open window, her back to him. Her hands gripped the window frame and Merlin shuddered as he saw how unnaturally long and thin they'd become, ending in cruel claws rather than nails, and her hair, her soft beautiful hair, was now a mane of tangled black wires slithering down her back. At the sound of the door being flung open she had turned to face him, snarling over one shoulder. Merlin stopped, unable to move. Her teeth were now fangs, her face elongated and strange and her eyes blazed gold. Her eyes … he could see it in her eyes.

She didn't recognise him.

She howled, a ghastly, inhuman noise, her face twisted and distorted beyond belief, and in the next moment had flung herself from the window and out into the street. The spell that had transfixed Merlin broke and he ran across the room, flinging his upper body out of the window and looking out into the night. And in that last moment he saw a wild, half formed thing bound away on all fours, disappearing into the street.

Heading in the direction of Town Hall.


	10. White Rose

_The night whipped past, a dark misshaped blur of lumps and angles broken every now and then by blinding sparks of light. The ground was unnaturally hard, the surroundings too ordered and confining. She lifted her head, stretched her wings, and sniffed at the stale, stagnant air. People. Animals. Food. That way. She turned and slinked off in the direction where noise and light and the stench of people oozed from a strange and ugly mound. Animals. Fear. Threat. Fear. Food. The dark was a living thing, pulling at her fur, dripping into her eyes as she darted soundlessly through deserted allies. Fear. Threat. Anger. At the end of the long, dark tunnel a wicked blaze burned bright, bathed in noise and light and smells to drive the senses into a frenzy. Fear. Anger. Rip. Tear. There were people in there. Animals. Fear. She was so afraid. She was so angry. _

_Rip. Tear. Kill._

_"__Freya!"_ screamed Merlin from the window sill, but it was too late. She had vanished into the night, heading towards the centre of town where most of the inhabitants had gathered. Without thinking Merlin heaved himself out of the window and into the night, hitting the ground hard, crumbling and rolling a short distance before he was able to struggle to his feet. He looked around wildly, blinking hard in the moonlit darkness as he struggled to gain his bearings, before he turned in the direction of Town Hall and began to run.

Strange, foreboding mockeries of homes and shops rolled past him as he ran, a terrifying, dark mirror of the pleasant village he and Freya had walked through earlier that day. Even though he knew he was moving as fast as his body could allow, everything seemed weighed and sluggish, as if he were trying to run through a thick bog. His legs felt as if there were lead weights attached to them and his breath came thick, heavy and cold, seizing in his lungs and freezing his throat. An absolute terror of a kind that he had never known had risen up to engulf him, choking him, leaving him on the brink of despair. Because he already know what was going to happen. He knew he'd never be able to reach Town Hall before Freya. As the bastet she was too fast, too strong. Before, when they had been alone and unharmed in the forest, they had been able to manage he transformations, and even in the form of a winged cat, Merlin had been able to seem something that seemed to be uniquely _Freya_ staring out at him from those large, golden eyes. But now … that look she had given him before she had leapt from the window. There was no Freya. Not anymore. There was simply the beast.

As he ran Merlin felt something icy cold trail down his cheek and realised he was crying. They were so close. So close. All they had to do was lay low for this one night, get the ship, and get this damnable curse lifted. He swiped angrily at his face. No. He couldn't loose it, not now. He had to stay in control. He had to keep his head. He needed to be strong to do … whatever he would need to do to keep Freya safe. _If_ he could keep Freya safe.

And he tried desperately to ignore that little voice in the back of his head that whispered insidiously that it might not be Freya who would need saving.

* * *

><p>At any other time the Town Hall was a sturdy, plain, and rather modest structure. It had been constructed as a place of practicality, a venue where laws were passed or upheld, where people met to settle debt or strike up new ones. So while it's transformation from a place of business to one of pleasure had been carried out with a great deal of care and attention to detail in an effort to disguise it's more humble purpose, a more refined eye could still see the plain building beneath.<p>

A more refined person would not comment on it.

"Do you think they've chosen to drench the hall in flowers in an effort to conceal how aged the plaster works are?" asked Prince Arthur of Camelot through a fixed grin. "Or perhaps it was done with the intention of covering the smell of rotting wood?"

The beautiful woman who walked lazily by his side turned to him with a hard glare. "These are not rich people, Arthur, and they're efforts to greet us and see to our needs have been more than adequate."

Arthur sniffed. "I'm sure for a woman, Morgana, flowers are all that's needed to make a great feast."

Morgana stopped walking, a look of disgust on her face. "Well, I'm sorry that this lovely hall is such a endurance to your delicate sensibilities."

He sighed. "Morgana, I -"

"Pardon me, but I have to go find someone to talk to who isn't so offended by this terrible, terrible event." Morgana cut him off sharply and, with a toss of her magnificent head, stalked off to where she had seen her gentle maid, Gwen, hovering by one of the ostentatious flower arrangements. The Prince watched her go with a repentant look on his face and half made as if to follow her, but in the next moment he simply gave a deeper sigh and walked off in the other direction.

Gwen had been closely watching the entire exchange, and while she'd been too far away to hear any of what was said, the sour look on her Lady's face was confirmation enough that the Prince's mood had not improved since that morning. As Morgana drew near Gwen deftly plucked a goblet of mead from a passing servant and had it ready for her Lady as she arrived. The scowl that marred her pale face softened and was replaced with a small smile of thanks as she accepted the drink from her loyal gentlewoman and then softly linked her free arm through Gwen's as the two women began to slowly walk through the crowded hall, talking quietly as they went.

"So, I'm guessing Arthur continues to be his usual charming self?" Gwen asked in such an innocent manner that Morgana snort into her goblet.

"Oh yes," she answered after she composed herself. "He's nothing but good will and high spirits tonight."

Their shared distain at Arthur's childish attitude didn't last long, however, as they both remembered the unspoken root of his foul temper. Gwen shivered slightly and hugged closer to Morgana's side. "We can't blame him, though, can we?" she said sadly. "Not after what happened."

Morgana sighed and squeezed Gwen's hand, but didn't answer. They were both recalling the scene that had greeted them just before they had arrived in the small fishing village earlier that day.

_After a week on the road the carriage that Morgana had judged to be so luxurious at first, and had been so proud of the interior that she herself had designed and arranged, was beginning to feel like a prison cart. The Lady gave a sigh as she felt herself being jolted around in quite an undignified manner and cast a glance at Gwen, who seemed utterly unfazed, sitting quietly at the other end of the plush seat, staring calming out the window._

_"__Do you think the roads are getting rougher?" asked Morgana in a long drawl, when it was clear that simply staring at the back of Gwen's head wasn't going to get her attention. "Or is the driver now actively attempting to hit every bump and pothole he can find?"_

_Gwen turned to her with such a sweet smile that, despite her temper, Morgana found herself smiling back. "I think the roads are a little less traveled in these parts, my Lady, but I also just saw us pass a mile marker. We'll not be stuck here much longer."_

_"__Well, thank goodness for that!" said Morgana, stretching like a cat and casting a glance out her own window. "I'm tired of being carted around like luggage. Perhaps I should get a horse for the return journey."_

_"__You were offered a horse for the whole journey," Gwen gently reminded her. "And that was only after you insisted on accompany Arthur in the first place."_

_"__I did, didn't I?" she murmured, idly watching the bright green woods trickle by. "And what was my other choice? Endure a few weeks of mild discomfort on the road, or stay in Camelot. Alone. With Uther."_

_The smile fell from Gwen's face and she swallowed uneasily. Morgana continued to look out the window, giving no sign that she wanted comfort, but Gwen still reached out her hand and carefully placed it over Morgana's pale fingers. After a few moments Morgana turned her palm upwards and returned the pressure._

_They sat together in pleasant silence as the carriage rattled and shook, when there came the sound of a faint cry from outside and the carriage slowly rolled to a stop. The two women sat up straight and cast worried glances at each other._

_"__We can't be there already," said Gwen, frowning and leaning out her window to see what was happening ahead._

_Morgana was about to answer when the sounds of indistinct raised voices could be heard. It wasn't quite shouting, but it was definitely the source of what had stopped the procession. Morgana quickly unlatched the door on her side and dropped down from the carriage, Gwen following close behind. Morgana turned and placed a hand on her shoulder._

_"__Maybe you should stay here, Gwen. It might not be safe."_

_"__I know." said Gwen simply, yet made no movement to return to the carriage. Morgana flashed her a quick smile, then turned and marched with all the authority of a noblewoman to the front of the procession, Gwen close behind her._

_As they drew closer to where Arthur was leading the way on horseback, flanked by Sir Leon and other knights of Camelot, the raised voices became more distinct and Morgana could clearly hear Arthur's rich tones ringing out as he addressed whoever who had stopped them._

_"__I am sorry about your grievances, but halting a royal procession in the middle of the forest isn't the best place to air them."_

_"__Grievances?" spat an unknown voice that sounded older and more weather, partially after Arthur's cultured accent. "Grievances? That's a very pretty way of putting it, my Lord. It's sounds awfully like a nice way of making me out to be nothing more than a petty farmer complaining about wolves. This ain't a grievance, this is fury spouting from sheer bloody terror!"_

_Morgana and Gwen rounded the final carriage and found themselves at the front of the procession, finally seeing who had halted them. Morgana was surprised to see nothing more than a tall, older man with a greying beard, flanked by only three other men who, though armed, did not have their weapons drawn and were merely standing in the way of the procession. They seemed a ragged, desperate lot and while the tall man leading them seemed to possess something more of a noble spirit he was also pale and sleep starved. Morgana didn't know whether to pity them of be afraid._

_Arthur, however, did not seem to be so moved. "We have nearly reached the village of Meltar," he said in an almost bored voice. "Where we intended to stay the better part of a week, seeing to business with Lord Triolus and other landowners. Whatever issues you might have, you can bring them before us in a more formal -"_

_"__Don't patronise me, boy!" shouted the man in sudden anger. Arthur narrowed his eyes to be addressed so, and the knights around him visibly stiffened. The man plowed on regardless. "You and I both know that the likes of me won't get a look in at the grand hall later! And my grievance ain't about land or money, it's about you and that beast you let escape from Camelot!"_

_Morgana gasped and Gwen reached out to grip her arm, while Arthur's eyes widened and the knights around him exchanged surprised looks. "Who are you, and what do you know of this?" asked Arthur, his voice low._

_The man snorted and pulled himself up to his full height. "I am Safir. I live by the river just outside the boundaries of Camelot. For the most part, me and mine keep to ourselves. We do our share though, don't you mind that. We pay out taxes and expect protection in return. Which you failed in providing when you let that she-beast escape with that sorcerer!"_

_Morgana felt her breath catch in her throat and Gwen's fingers on her arm tightened to the point of pain. "What are you talking about?" she demanded before she could stop herself. Safir's wide gaze swung around to land on her._

_"__Who are you?"_

_"__She is the Lady Morgana," said Arthur, his voice still dangerously low. "And you will answer her."_

_Safir gave her an ugly look, then sketched out a mocking bow. "Well, my Lady," he began. "I'm talking about how, a few weeks ago, two pale, skinny things passed by my village, like ghosts. The frightened my neighbours, stole from them and then vanished without a trace. Meself and a few of the men got ourselves armed and went after them, thinking they were just some petty thieves, but …" at this Safir faltered. "We were not prepared for what we would find. The girl … is not a girl. We watched as she transformed into a hideous creature unlike anything I've seen. And when it attacked us, it wasn't alone. The boy that was with her, strange, unnatural thing that he was, used magic against us. He … he …" Morgana was shocked to see tears forming in the man's eyes as he choked out the last of his tale. "He killed my son! My boy, my only boy! And then he leapt on the back of that foul beast and together they flew off into the darkness. It was terror of the likes I wouldn't wish on anyone."_

_Morgana felt herself sway slightly as if she'd been struck by some unseen blow and faintly heard Gwen whisper, "It's not possible!" behind her. Everyone now knew exactly what - and who - Safir was talking about. The scandal that occurred a few weeks ago had brought such fury and violence from both Uther and Arthur that even now Morgana trembled to remember it. A druid girl with the power to transform into some horrible winged creature had escaped from Camelot despite the best efforts of Arthur and his knights to kill it. And in the same night Merlin, Arthur's trusted man servant, had also disappeared. The rumours had started immediately, rumours that sent Arthur into a quiet rage whenever he happened to catch a few hastily spoken words. Some said the beast killed and devoured the boy. Others said that Merlin had fought the creature, a duel that resulted in both their deaths. Others still whispered that Merlin had escaped with the girl, and that the last anyone saw of them was of the two holding hands and running into the darkness. But nothing, nothing had been so far fetched as to claim that Merlin was as cursed with magic as the strange creature that had so dramatically changed their lives._

Morgana shook herself as she came back to the present, focusing on the feel of Gwen's hand on her arm as the two of the continued to glide aimlessly around the crowded hall. The whole purpose of this visit to the provinces had been to get away from the heavy atmosphere of mourning that had settled over Camelot since Merlin's disappearance. Gwen had lost a dear friend, Gaius, a youthful companion, Arthur, a loyal servant. Morgana herself had mourned him in her own way. She had always liked and trusted Merlin, finding him to be both incredibly entertaining and surprisingly wise. His loss had left them all bereft.

But now. The idea that not only was he living, but that he was capable of magic? Not only that - that he was capable of _murder_? Morgana could not believe it. Would not.

"I believe that you are weighed down with the same thoughts as Arthur." Gwen murmured softly as they twisted and weaved their way past country nobles, Morgana smiling and nodding mechanically as they went.

"Of course I am," said Morgana. "I still haven't been able to quiet settle it in my mind. The idea that Merlin, of all people, could be capable of such things!"

"I don't believe that he is," said Gwen stubbornly.

"Why do you say that?"

Gwen glanced up at her. "Just before he disappeared, I caught him in your room. He was taking one of your dresses away, saying something about moths."

"Moths?"

Gwen smiled at the memory. "Well, Merlin was never one for lying. But the thing is, I haven't been able to find the dress again. I think he stole it. And I don't think it was for himself."

Morgana stopped walking and turned to face Gwen. "Are you saying Merlin stole clothes for this girl-beast?"

"I'm saying it's not unlike Merlin to show compassion to those less fortunate. And we've both heard those stories of him being seen running away with the girl. I'd say now, after what we've heard, the idea of the two of them working together is more than likely."

Morgana glanced about her, to make sure no-one was listening. "And the other thing?"

Gwen's face darkened and she leaned closer, dropping her voice. "I do not _know_ if Merlin has magic, but I would not be surprised. But Morgana, I can not believe, not ever, that Merlin is capable of harming anyone!"

"Neither can I," said Morgana firmly.

"I also can't believe that he would throw in his lot with something that was as evil as what people are saying," continued Gwen.

Morgana nodded. "Perhaps … he was enchanted? That would explain his running off."

"That would explain a lot of things," a deep voice interrupted.

Both Morgana and Gwen jump and turned to a hard faced Prince Arthur. He glared at them a moment before continuing. "But one thing that can't be explained is why the two of you would be discussing such a sensitive topic is full view of the public."

Once Morgana had recovered for the slight fright he'd given her, she drew herself up to her full height and looked down at him in a manner she knew he hated. He might be renowned for his arrogance, but she was unsurpassed when it came to a haughty exterior. Gwen, seeing what was coming, decided on looking down.

"Oh, I didn't anyone paying us any mind. Not when they had a rude, brooding Prince to focus their attention on." she said loftily.

"Do not test me tonight, Morgana. I am not in the mood."

Something in his voice made Gwen look up at him, and she saw in his face a tightness that filled her with alarm. "What is it?" she asked, causing both Morgana and Arthur to forget their posturing and look at her. "What have you decided?"

Arthur started as if surprised by her insightfulness and in the next moment made as if he were about to brush off her concerns. But without a word Gwen simply stared at him, willing him to honesty despite his best efforts, so he just sighed in resignation, his shoulders sagging slightly, and began his explanation. Morgana watched this silent exchange with narrowed eyes.

"I have been in conference with Lord Triolus," he began, nodding to the jolly, elderly lord who was currently laughing heartily amongst a throng of fellow nobles. "Don't be fooled by his soft exterior, he has been a good leader of this region for many years and can be hard when the occasion calls for it. He, myself, our friend Safir and a few knights and nobles had a discussion this afternoon about what to do about this … beast."

"And?"

"And we're not going to wait for another chance encounter," he continued, sighed heavily. "Tomorrow we gather as many men as we can and we hunt this thing down. Which … will be a challenge. We have no idea where it could be right now, seeing as the last confirmed sighting was by Safir and his men weeks ago and miles away. But it is out there, that much we know, and we can't let it terrorised these small villages, no matter how remote they are to Camelot."

Gwen pressed her lips together in a thin line. "But it's not the hunt that's got you so … distracted."

There was the smallest pause, then Arthur raised his blue eyes to give Gwen a hard warning glance to which she, to her credit, did not look away from. Into the thick silence Morgana spoke.

"Well, I'm not afraid to say it," she said. Arthur transferred his steely gaze to her. "What are you going to do if you find Merlin with the beast?"

Arthur's face was unreadable. "You know my father's laws."

"But you are not your father!" implored Morgana. "And you know Merlin better than any of us! Do you really see Merlin - _Merlin,_ of all people - as someone who would throw his lot in with a creature of evil?"

Arthur blinked rapidly and looked away. "I don't know what to think."

"Well, I do," said Morgana, thrusting her chin up. "And I know that you, despite everything, will do the right thing. When the moment comes."

Arthur looked up into Morgana's brilliant green eyes and saw a blazing determination in them and when he shifted his glance to Gwen she gave him a small smile of encouragement. He swallowed, gave a sharp nod and parted his lips as if to speak -

- but whatever he was about to say got lost in a sudden and horrific howling.

The chattering crowd was silenced in an instant, the musicians faltered on their instruments and as one everyone in Town Hall turned wide eyes and frightened faces to the entrance. And it came again, starting soft and distant and building like a black wave of sound to wash over them all. A howling screech, a guttural moan, a terrible, awful, _animal_ cry. On instinct Gwen clutched at Morgana's hands and Arthur's hand went to the hilt of his sword. The unnatural wail seemed to come from all sides, pouring down from the sky and creeping up from the earth, shaking and reverberating through the air and amongst the crowd before it softened, trailed away and faded to nothing. For a long, agonising moment there was the purest of silences as the crowd held their breath.

Then the sudden, brutal sound of wood being splinted to a thousand sticks rent the air as the massive entrance doors were thrown from their hinges as if they weighed nothing and through the falling debris came a creature of nightmares. Massive, misshapen, with fur blacker than a moonless night, unthinking, glowing eyes and hideous wings. Morgana felt her heart seize with fear and the rest of her body momentarily followed suit as she watched the creature swing its huge head side to side before it's eyes fixed upon something and they widened with something that was almost like rage. Morgana followed the creature's gaze and found that it had landed on Arthur. The animal's face twisted into a fierce snarl, revealing wickedly long, dripping fangs as it let loose another terrible howl and sprang forward.

The spell that had kept the party goers still and silent was broken, and all at one people started to scream and panic, running any way they thought could save them, tangling into one another in the process. Morgana felt something soft and heavy slam into her and the next moment she was laying on the floor, Gwen's warm weight above her as she had pushed out of the way of the beast. Morgana twisted her head to one side, straining to see through the tramp of feet as Arthur deftly side stepped the attack and drew his sword, spinning around to easily face the creature.

Gwen was quickly on her feet, dragging Morgana up with her as the crowd continued to jostle them both. "Morgana, we have to do something!"

Morgana cast her eyes around, and saw Sir Leon and a few of Camelot's knights, but they were far away and were at the moment oblivious to their Prince's needs. She looked back at Arthur and was terrified to see that the creature had now cornered him and while Arthur continued to swipe his sword at the creature's face it easily avoided any injury and was advancing with all the patience of predator sure of an easy kill. Not knowing what else to do Morgana cast her eyes around frantically for a weapon and, finding the closest thing at hand to be an untuned chair, grabbed that and threw it with all her might onto the back of the animal, letting loose a guttural yell of her own.

It cracked across the back of the creature, who turned with sudden vehemence and howled frightfully right in Morgana's face. But it's momentary distraction cost it dearly, as Arthur took that opportunity and slashed violently at the creature's now exposed throat.

The creature threw back it's head and gave a high pitched yowl and staggered away from it's attacker, leaving Arthur free to run around and rejoin Morgana and Gwen. But they couldn't celebrate. Because as the creature screamed in pain, the sound became less of an animals call all the more like a human scream.

"Oh God!" whispered Gwen, her hands over her mouth, and Morgana felt a sudden sickness in her stomach. For the first time she recalled that it was a girl who could change into a beast, that there might be a woman's mind in that frightful, animal frame. And that thought was the most horrible thing she had encountered that night.

They didn't have long to contemplate this. The hall was now almost completely empty, except for the knights, a few of the armed nobels and Lord Triolus, who's flabby face was now set and hard, his longsword held out expertly in front of him. All of the advance on the creature, weapons drawn, forming a close circle around it. It twisted and hissed, its wings expanding and flapping menacingly, but also uselessly as the hall was too small to allow flight. Morgana caught a glimpse of wet, matted fur at the creatures neck and saw that while Arthur's blow had landed, it wasn't deep enough to stop the beast. As the knights advance she and Gwen backed themselves against one of the walls, watching with wide, fearful eyes.

"Stay back!" ordered Arthur, as the creature yowled and swiped a massive paw at them. "Everyone stay together! If you stand out in the line the beast will single you out! We attack together, on my command!"

The line of men tightened, a sharp angry line. The beast howled again, this time Morgana could almost hear a tinge of desperation in that call.

"Ready?" Arthur cried. Gwen gripped onto Morgana's hands and she anxiously returned the pressure. "_Attack_!"

"NO!"

A pulse of white hot energy seemed to flash around the hall and all at once the line of men, Arthur included, were thrown backwards and away from the creature by some unseen force, sprawling across the floor in a mass of legs and arms. Morgana cast her eyes around wildly, looking for the source of this magic and off at the broken entrance of the hall she saw a slim, dark figure standing in the ruins. Even from that distance she could clearly make out the golden glow of his eyes. Even from that distance, even though she couldn't see his face, she already knew in her heart or hearts who this mysterious sorcerer was. And as Gwen's fingernails dug indentations into her arm, she knew Gwen knew too.

Arthur, however, was not so quick. He pulled himself free of the wreckage of men around him and sprung to his feet, raising his sword above his head, his lips drawn back in a snarl that was not unlike the creature's. As the dark figure from the door started to walk across the room towards them he made as if to throw his sword at the intruder before Gwen's voice stopped him.

"Arthur, don't!" she screamed. "_Look_!"

At the desperate sound in Gwen's voice he faltered and finally, properly looked at who had cast a spell on him and his men. And in the next moment his sword fell from listless fingers to land heavily on the ground beside him.

It was Merlin. But, not Merlin as any of them had even known him. In many ways he still looked like his old self. Same clothes, same handkerchief, same dark hair and long, pale face. But as he drew closer Morgana saw an expression on his face at just didn't seem as if it belonged there. Gone was the Merlin she knew; she happy, laughing, sweet servant boy. His face was unmoving, severe and so utterly unlike the Merlin they all knew that Morgana felt as if she were looking into the face of a stranger. As he walked towards them, slowly, confidently, it suddenly stuck Morgana how alike his movements were to the creatures. Smooth, unhurried. A predator with nothing to fear. The most dangerous creature in the room.

Morgana felt Gwen tug at her sleeve. "Look." she whispered, nodding towards the animal. Morgana glanced over and felt her jaw drop. The animal, which moments earlier had been so violent and full of rage, had dropped down into a crouch and was now keening and pawing at the ground in such a pained manner that Morgana felt her heart break to witness it. Merlin ignored them all and walked straight up to the animal and without fear, without hesitation, took its massive fury head in his arms and held it close. At this contact the beast started to howl again, only this time it wasn't a loud cry but rather a subdued cry, a mournful, hollow sound that was once again all too human to be coming from such a thing. As they all watched in stunned silence they saw the black fur slowly begin to malt and fall away, the wing shrivel, droop and disappear, and ever so surely the form of a human girl emerged. The crying didn't stop. As the animalistic wails slowly gave way to quieter sobs, a lost and broken young woman could now been seen in Merlin's arms, filthy, naked, with an ugly looking but shallow cut across the front of her throat. Throughout the transformation Merlin never said a word, and never let go.

And for Morgana, for some reason, the strangest thing that stuck in her mind many hours later as she lay in her bed unable to sleep was that, even though there had been no such flower in any of the numerous arrangements in the hall that night, the two strange, unnatural things had been surrounded by petals littered across the damaged floor. White rose petals.


	11. Poppy

Gwen gave a long, unashamed yawn and scrubbed at her eyes with the heel of her palm as she tottered down the aged wooden stairs. It was early, much earlier than she usually started her duties, but she couldn't spend another moment laying in her bed, staring at the ceiling with her mind in an endless whirl. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had such a lousy sleep as she did that night. In fact, she wasn't overly sure if she even got to sleep at all. Memories of what had happened at Town Hall had blurred with the darkness and her own imaginings to create a fitful, fearful haze that had robbed her of any chance to rest. Her mind had been a churning cesspool of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Someone who she once thought of as a friend was now a complete stranger, while a stranger that she had regarded as a monster, she had now seen as nothing more than a pitiful, lost child. Over and over she saw how Arthur had slumped to the ground, overwhelmed by the realisation that his most faithful servant had been hiding a terrible secret all along, while in contrast Morgana had stood ram-rod straight, eyes wide and staring with only Gwen knowing how truly shocked she was as she took her lady's arm and felt the tremors that shook her frame.

She remember how the girl's heaving sobs had slowly quietened into laboured breaths and how a deep calm seemed to descend upon the now ruined hall. Merlin had looked up at them from amongst the wreckage and even though he was surrounded by highly skilled, heavily armed men, he didn't seem in the least perturbed. Gwen had cast a quick glance around the room to see some the knights half heartedly raise their weapons, while others kept their swords limply at their sides, shooting side long looks at Lord Triolus, waiting for orders. None seemed forthcoming from the Lord as he rolled to his feet, his normally ruddy face now drained of colour, flabby mouth gaping. He seemed as much at a loss of what to do as anyone else.

Merlin spoke into this unnatural calm, his low and even voice cutting though the air like the crap of a whip. "Hello, Arthur."

These words seemed to act as a tonic to the prince, who in an instant had snatched his fallen sword off the floor and raised it with all the precision and thoughtlessness that only the highly trained could manage. Gwen could see Arthur's eyes; they were wide and bright, staring out with something that was almost madness, and his lips were sealed in a firm line. He didn't answer Merlin, just stood there with his sword outstretched, frozen in an attack position. Merlin simply looked up at him, his arms still around the shaking girl who continued to hide her face in his shoulder.

"Please don't do that," he said quietly. "I think we both know that if you attack us, it's not going to end well."

Arthur didn't answer at first, just breathed heavily though his nose, struggling to keep his calm demeanour. At last he managed to choke out, "You … you have magic?"

"Yes," answered Merlin simply.

"For how long?"

At this Merlin sighed and slumped. "Like everyone else, I was born with it," he said. He then looked Arthur right in the eye and tightened his grip on the girl. "Everyone with magic, everyone who you have ever feared or hunted, never chose this. It is simply who we are."

"And who are you, Merlin?" burst out Arthur, and for a moment the shine in his eyes looked suspiciously like tears. "All this time you've been by my side, who were you really? A loyal servant of Camelot? Well, that can not be true, can it? Not if you and your kind are the very thing that would … that would threaten us."

"Threaten? Really?" Merlin glanced down at the now silent and shivering girl in his arms. "Is 'threatened' what you really feel right now?"

"You attacked us!" shouted Arthur, his voice bouncing off the high walls.

"No he didn't!" said Morgana, her voice shaking but clear. All eyes were suddenly upon her, and Gwen shrank closer to her side. "He didn't attack us," she repeated slowly, making sure that everyone in the room could understand her. "He was protecting that … girl. If he had wanted to harm us, there'd be no-one left standing for this conversation. Anyone could see that."

For a moment Arthur was at a loss for words. "Really?" he eventually spluttered out. "Is that what you think?"

"Yes, with 'think' being the operative word here," answered Morgana, her cool commanding manner returning. "I've been _thinking_ while you lot have been screaming and waving your swords around. And I've come to a conclusion." At this Moragan gently detached her arm from Gwen's hold and started to walk towards the huddled pair. Gwen could barely contain her gasp of surprise, and she wasn't the only one. Arthur made as if to reach out and grab her but a glare of pure ice halted his actions before he even completed them. All across the hall the knights started murmuring to one another and she could distinctly hear Lord Trilous mutter, 'Madness!', but the Lady did not falter. Marlin watched her carefully, but without suspicion. When she reached them she knelt down and began to talk with Merlin in tones so low that no-one else in the hall could make out a single word that was exchanged. The whole conversation lasted less than a minute and at the end Merlin nodded once and then turned to whisper into the girl's hair. Morgana rose to her feet, her back to the gathering, and stood still and silent for a moment longer before turning, hesitating, and then stooping down to pull a ripped table cloth our from under the ruined table it had once sat on and then gently draping it around the girl's naked shoulders.

She then rose once more and walked back towards Gwen, as cool and collected as when she departed. As she re-joined Gwen's side and laced her fingers through hers she turned a scornful eye on Arthur's unsheathed sword. "Put that away, Arthur," she said. "There's no need for that nonsense now."

Arthur pointedly ignored her advice. "What did you say?"

Morgana turned and addressed the hall at large. "The sorcerer has agreed to surrender himself. Lord Trilous?" The Lord started at being spoken to. "I hear your manor is sturdy and ancient. And that your dungeons are so deep and well guarded that none have ever escaped? Is that so?"

A deep furrow ran down the Lord's forehead. "My Lady, you cannot think to house these things in my dungeons?"

"Why not?" asked Morgana lightly. "Have the stories of your keep been exaggerated?"

"No," said the Lord, "But neither have they been tested against prisoners with such power! You've seen what they've done to our Hall. I doubt my stone walls could keep them."

"And you are right. Mere stone walls could never hold someone with such power." In that brief moment Gwen felt Morgana's hand twitch in her own, but her face betrayed nothing. "Yet we will intern them there anyway."

"Where does your reasoning come from?"

"Look at the fear in your own men, Lord Trilous." The Lord's eyes flickered around briefly before returning to Morgana's face. "Fear is a toxin we cannot unleash on any township. Right now, the town thinks there is merely a wild beast in this hall - a wild beast that has now been slain by your brave men. Only those in the hall know of the sorcerer and what he can do and we need to keep it that way. We will hide them in your dungeons where neither of them will try to escape and the people of your town will sleep soundly tonight knowing that they are safe and protected by their Lord."

Lord Trilous' mouth gaped for a moment before he spluttered out another disbelieving, "Madness! Utter madness! What guarantee do we have that they will not try to escape? That they will willingly be imprisoned in the first place?"

"I have their word," said Morgana cooly.

"Their word? Their word? Pardon me, my Lady, if I do not hold in high regard the word of such monsters."

Morgana had just opened her mouth, obviously intent on a cutting reply, when a different voice cut across the room.

"If you will not take their word, then take mine."

Everyone's eyes turned to Arthur. Gwen glanced around and saw that even Merlin, who was sitting still and silent, sheltering the woman in his arms, now had his gaze fixed on the prince. His face was unreadable. Gwen turned back to Arthur and felt her heart ache when she saw a man who seemed to have aged years in the last few minutes. His shoulders where thrown back but his head drooped and like an sleepwalker he sheathed his sword with barely a sound. He raised his head to first look at Morgana, then Gwen, and finally his eyes slide to Lord Trilous. "Take them away, and you have my word that they will not try to escape." He then marched away from the carnage, making for the gaping hole where the front doors had previously been.

"My Lord —!" began Trilous, but he was cut off in the next instant.

"Do as I say, and let us have this night at an end!" bellowed Arthur, never once turning back as he left the stunned group behind and vanished into the night.

For a moment, no one moved. Then, like a swan taking to water, Morgana took control.

"You heard your Prince," she said, chin high. She pointed at two of the bewildered knights. "You two! Take the prisoners away. And when they are properly imprisoned be sure to find the woman some proper garments to wear." When the two men hesitated she narrowed her eyes dangerous. "Or will I have to preform your duties for you?"

With great trepidation the men approached Merlin and the woman, both of whom had already risen to their feet and were awaiting them. The woman was now tucked underneath Merlin's arms, still wrapped in the tablecloth that came down just below her knees, leaving her bare and dirty feet visible. Gwen felt a sharp pang of sympathy for this poor woman, regardless of what kind of beast she had been not just a few minutes before. The soldiers kept their weapons unsheathed and at the ready, but neither prisoner offered any resistance as they were quietly marched out the still intact back door, and away to the dungeons.

Only then did Morgana let out a shaky breath as the steel beneath her skin seemed to melt away and she clutched ever tighter on Gwen's hand. Her voice, however, betrayed none of this. "Lord Trilous," she said in an almost lazy manner. "I feel as if the night has provided all the entertainment it's going to. I shall retire now, and I strongly recommend the same to you." Without waiting for a reply Morgana swept from the room, her hand latched around Gwen's.

As soon as the two of them entered Morgana's temporary chamber the Lady spun around to hug Gwen tightly. "Are you alright, Gwen?" she whispered.

Despite everything Gwen smiled and held on just as tightly. "I am well." The two women broke their embrace and Gwen looked up at Morgana's now flushed face. The cold and distant lady of the court disappeared now that they were both in the safety of her chambers, and for the first time Gwen could see how deeply shaken Morgana was.

"Morgana," said Gwen softly. "What did Merlin say to you?"

For a split second a look a shame flickered across her face before she quickly replied, "Exactly what I told the court. That he and the woman he's with wants to be kept safe and hidden in the strong hold." She managed a shaky smile. "That is all."

Gwen felt her heart turn cold. Morgana was lying to her, obviously lying to her, and the falsehood hung thick and cruel in the air around them. Gwen saw Morgana's smile fades she realised that her lie wasn't convincing and in the next moment Gwen felt the urge to call her out on it, to force her to tell the truth. But then a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over her and she just didn't feel like facing this battle tonight, certainly not against someone she cared about as deeply as Morgana.

"Is that all, my Lady?" she asked quietly, and she could see that Morgana felt the sting in the formality. "It's just … I'm rather tired …"

Morgana put a phenomenal effort into retaining her smile. "We both are. No, I don't need anything else tonight. You may leave."

Gwen gave a quick curtsy and left the chamber as fast as she could, desiring nothing more than her own room, solitude and silence. Morgana was lying to her, something she never did and it was such an obvious deception that Gwen felt doubling insulted. Still, she reminded herself bitterly, she was just the servant. If her Lady kept secrets, that was her business. But it didn't matter how much she told herself that it didn't help her sleep that night and images of the beast attacking, of Merlin's powers and Morgana's insincere smile haunted her until the sky started to lighten in the east once more.

When staying in bed became unbearable Gwen had thrown back the sheets, dressed herself, and started her duties well before any other servant in the manor, making her was down the old wooden stairs as quietly as possible to exit into the main courtyard. The morning was grey and still with a slight chill to the air that made Gwen shiver and rub vigorously at her arms as she quickly walked over to the well in the centre of the court, intent on drawing out some water for Morgana's morning bath.

As cold and grim as the morning was Gwen welcomed it compared to her confining bedroom, allowing the bitterness to bring her to wakefulness. As she lowered the bucket into the well she suddenly got the strangest feeling as if she were being watched. She paused for a moment, still looking deep down into the murky depth of the well while the hairs on the back of her neck pricked and stood on end. Her ears strained, but she heard nothing, absolutely nothing as it was too early even for birdsong. She took a deep breath and slowly turned around, her eyes scanning the empty courtyard.

But it was not empty. Gwen gave a slight gasp and placed her hand over her heart as she saw someone sitting on the steps at the far end of the courtyard, the same steps that the guests used for the main entrance to the manor. In the next moment she felt a flood of relief when she recognised who it was. It was Arthur.

"I was wondering when you were going to notice me," he said, his quiet voice clear to Gwen's ears in the silence of the courtyard. He got up and walked towards her, and she could tell that he hadn't changed since last night, only now his finery was all mud stained at the hems and his boots were scrapped and filthy.

"And where have you been?" she asked before she could stop herself, and then winced at her behaviour. That was certainly not how you addressed a prince, and she ducked her head as she started to mumble, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that …"

"It's okay," said Arthur softly, and when Gwen glanced up she could've sworn that he seemed almost amused. But then the expression was gone and he simply looked tired. "I've been walking, mostly. Through the woods around the village."

"All night?" she asked. "You didn't sleep?"

Arthur shrugged and looked carefully at her face. "I could very well ask you the same thing."

"Oh, I'm fine," Gwen said, a little too quickly, as she turned back to the well and started to haul the now full bucket upwards. Her eyes widened as a large hand reached over her shoulder to pluck the rope out of her hands.

"Guinevere," he drawled out her name and she glanced back up at him, noting how much closer he was now standing to her. She dropped her hands to her hips and stood aside, and when she didn't answer him right away and instead gave him a withering glance he just smiled slight and started to haul the bucket up.

"You're right," she sighed finally. "I didn't sleep well, if at all. But I hardly think I was the only one kept away last night." She glanced around the deserted courtyard. "Maybe that's why it's so quiet now. People have only just drifted off to sleep."

"I don't think I would join them, even if I had a mind to." said Arthur as he heaved up the now dripping bucket and placed it on the ground beside her so Gwen could easily fill up her pewter jugs. She bent down slightly, then straightened again and looked Arthur right in the eyes and simply asked;

"Are you alright?"

He stared down at her, looking less like a royal prince and more like a lost boy who simply did not know what to do. His eyes became distant as he got lost in thought, like he was trying desperately to sort through the mess in his mind. "I don't know what to think. Merlin … of all people, Merlin has magic. Last night, I was furious and I couldn't see beyond my rage. Which is why I left. I wasn't sure what I would do if I let my anger control me like that. I spent most of the night charging through the woods and," at this point he glanced back a Gwen, an almost sheepish smile ghosting across his face, "I will admit there are a few tree out there who bore the brunt of that anger. But then, like so many other fires that burn so bright, that rage was burnt out of me well before dawn and I was left cold and bereft. And that forced me to think."

"What did you think about?"

The unfocused look on his face vanished and he became slowly more determined. "Merlin has been in my service for well over a year now, and he has had thousands upon thousands of opportunities to kill me if he wanted. Yet every time I thought of what he has done in my service, how he has - in his own dim witted way - protected me." Gwen rolled her eyes slightly at the 'dim witted' comment, already coming to terms with the idea that his seeming simplicity might just be an act to hide his magic. It seemed that Arthur, as noble as he was, could only accept one ground breaking revelation at a time. He continued. "It makes no sense, none, for him to serve and protect me, protect Camelot, yet still somehow seek to conspire against us. And the only reason he has revealed himself now is because of whoever that woman is that's with him." He sighed and shook his head, making one hand into a fist and thumping it against the side of the well in agitation. "I don't understand. I have done nothing but hunt his kind, and he has done nothing but protect mine. I don't understand."

Without thinking Gwen reached out and placed her hand over his fist, halting his nervous movements. "There is only one way you could possibly understand what is in his heart," she said. "And that is to just go and talk to him. Talk to both of them. That's the only way you're going to get any answers, Arthur, and you know it." It was only then that she realised how inappropriate it was, her hand covering his, and she snatched it back awkwardly and tried her best to look nonchalant. However, judging by Arthur's slightly smug smile, it wasn't working. Gwen was just thankful he didn't comment on it.

"You're right, of course," he said, smiling gently. "You always do give such wise council."

Gwen smiled back, but could think of nothing more to say and without warning the silence between them slide into a familiar awkwardness. Arthur straightened and clasped his hands behind his back while Gwen grabbed at the pewter jug.

"Well, I … uh …"

"I'll leave you to it, then."

"Yes. Yes, I'll go attend to my Lady."

"Right," Arthur nodded. "And I'll … I think I'll take you up on your advice."

Gwen gave an even more radiant smile and Arthur nodded with an answering smile of his own before he started walking off towards the manor. As soon as he was out of earshot Gwen let out an embarrassed puff of breath and rolled her eyes at herself, before quickly filling her jug with frigid water and making her way to the servants entrance in the other direction.

She quietly ascended the steps up the Morgana's chamber, careful not to spill any water or make any noise as the corridors of the manor were still deserted and not a sound could be head coming from anywhere. When she reached Morgana's door she paused for a moment, ear to the wood, listening hard for any sounds of movement that might indicate that her lady was awake. Faintly she could hear soft sounds, as though someone was walking back and forth and assuming that, like herself, her Lady had had a troubled night, Gwen pushed at the door and allowed herself in unannounced and gently closed the door behind her.

"I thought you might be awake early —" she began, but her words were cut short as she suddenly realised what was going on.

Morgana was most definitely awake and already dressed in trousers and a shirt and jacket as if she were about to go riding and she wasn't the only one in there. Standing right next to her was Merlin and as Gwen looked around she saw the strange woman sitting on Morgana's bed.

"Gwen!" Morgana exclaimed, managing to keep her voice low but not loosing any of the strength in the word. "You should've knocked!"

"I've never knocked before," stuttered Gwen, dumbfounded, still clutching at her jug.

"Well, I'm not worried," said Merlin, stepping forward and taking the judge out of Gwen's nearly lifeless hands. He smiled brightly at her but for the moment she could do nothing but stare dumbly back. He looked so … normal. So much like the Merlin she knew. So very, very different from last night. "I was just telling the Lady that it was a mistake to leave you out of this. I mean, if we can't trust Gwen, then we can't trust anyone in the world."

Gwen glanced questioningly at Morgana, who now wore a tightly controlled expression of anger. "I never said we couldn't trust Gwen. I'd trust her with my life. I just didn't want to risk her safety."

"My safety?" asked Gwen, finding her voice. "But what about your safety?"

"I was going to take this risk on my own!"

"_What_ risk?"

"The risk in helping me."

All three of them turned to face the woman who was sitting calming on Morgana's bed. She was now clothed in simple hiking gear that Gwen recognised from her Lady's own wardrobe, although her hair was still a tangle, her feet were bare and Gwen could see the thin but vivid red line that marred her white throat. What Gwen found all the more unusual was the fact that the woman seemed to be playing with a small red poppy, the only flower in the room. The woman still seemed somewhat nervous as she got up from the bed and made her way over to Gwen.

"Hello," she said. "We haven't had a chance to be properly introduced. My name is Freya."

Gwen didn't really know how to react beyond a simple, "I'm Gwen."

"Nice to meet you, Gwen," said Freya, twisting her hands nervously around the flower. "I can assure you, you have no need to fear me."

"I don't," said Gwen quickly, causing Freya to raise her eyebrows disbelievingly. "I mean, I don't understand what's going on right now, so I don't know if I should be afraid or not. I wouldn't want to be afraid without reason."

Both Merlin and Morgana exchanged a glance and grinned at Gwen's honest response and even Freya smiled for the first time in Gwen's presence. "That's very wise of you." She took a deep breath. "Well, basically, I'm a Druid who was cursed to turn into the beast you saw last night." A flicker of pain crossed her face at the recollection. "It happens every night and most certainly against my own will. The woman who cursed me lives in a coastal town that can only be reached by boat and that's where Merlin and I were heading before … before last night. The Lady Morgana," she nodded towards her Lady, "Promised last night to help us escape by pretending to go quietly to the dungeons and then slipping away in the morning. Then, the three of us would take the first boat leaving and be away before anyone noticed."

Gwen took a moment to absorb all that before looking back at Morgana. "And you were just going to leave me behind?"

Morgana rushed forward and took both Gwen's hands in her own. "If I am captured helping those with magic I am protected by being the ward of Uther," she said desperately. "I can not guarantee the same protection for you."

"Well, it's too late," said Gwen, raising her chin slightly. "I know now, and I'm coming."

"And it's too late to argue, my Lady," said Merlin in an almost chipper voice as he flung open Morgana's closet and pulled out one of her more subdued traveling cloaks and hurried over to fasten it around Gwen's shoulders. "As it happens, we were just leaving," he said quickly, rushing to the table at the centre of the room and shouldering a rather large bag. "So that's it, decision made, Gwen's coming with us. Lets go before the guards realise we're missing."

Despite the danger they were in Gwen and Morgana quickly shared a secret smile over Merlin's attitude and as Gwen glanced over at Freya she saw the woman smiling as well. But her smile had a different texture to it, a soft playfulness that she didn't even seem aware of and in that moment Gwen knew exactly what type of relationship existed between these two.

Suddenly a wave of terror washed over her as the last part of Merlin's speech sunk into her brain. "Oh no!" she gasped.

Morgana was instantly concerned. "What? What is it?"

"Arthur!" she said, clutching at her hands. "I saw Arthur in the courtyard just before I came up here. I encouraged him to go down to the dungeons and speak with Merlin, to try and understand him better!"

The smile dropped from Merlin's face, replaced with a look of stark horror. "When did this happen?"

"Not ten minutes ago," answered Gwen. "He most certainly knows by now that you're missing from your cell!"

"Merlin …" whispered Freya fearfully.

"We have to go, now." said Merlin harshly and in the next moment the four of them were swept out of the door and were flying silently down the halls towards the exit.

They kept close together, treading lightly and breathing softly as they ran from the building and burst back out into the empty courtyard. Just ahead they could see the gates leading out into the streets.

"I hear no alarms," panted Morgana as she ran. "Perhaps he hasn't discovered your absence yet?"

"You're wrong. I already did."

The four of them skidded to a halt as Arthur casually strode into the gaping exit, sword unsheathed, blocking their escape. His face was once again hard and unreadable as he glanced at each of their faces in turn, and Gwen felt herself flinch when his hard eyes locked on hers.

"Arthur …" started Merlin, but he cut him off.

"So, it was a ruse," said Arthur, sword lowered but at the ready. "Get them away from the Hall, make everyone think that they were submitting to imprisonment, and then steal away early in the morning. You were just biding your time."

"Arthur, please —" started Morgana but he spoke over the top of her too.

"It is my duty as a Prince of Camelot to see you and any of your conspirators hung for this," he said, and Gwen could see Merlin visibly brace himself as if preparing for an attack, or even to attack as the air in the courtyard became thick with fear. Then, suddenly, Arthur sheathed his sword and walked slowly forward until he was face to face with the group. As the others looked at him questionably he merely took a deep breath and continued, "But it is my duty as a friend to help those I care about."

It was as if someone had let the light back into the world and Gwen felt herself go weak with relief as Merlin gave Arthur the brightest smile she'd ever seen, a smile that was unfortunately only dimly returned.

"So," said Arthur, looking around at the motley group. "What's the plan?"


	12. Tulip

If Freya had been told three days ago that she would find herself travelling with a Prince, a Lady and a servant of Camelot, she would've laughed off the mere thought as madness. She'd never even seen a noble person before let along interacted with one, and any dealings she'd had with those from Camelot had been less than charming. But now as she stole her way through the silent streets of this quiet fishing village with her hand held tight by Merlin and the three strangers protecting her from both in front and behind, she couldn't help but feel a bubble of hope begin to expand in her chest. For the first time in so very, very long, she had allies, maybe even friends that were dedicated to helping her. Merlin knew these people and knew them well enough to trust them with both their lives, a fact that Freya would not lightly dismiss. The Lady Morgana had proved herself to be quick witted and steadfast, Gwen seemed kind and wise and the Prince … well, he hadn't killed her. Which, Freya had to admit, wasn't the best thing one person could say about another, but at this stage Prince Arthur's compliance was just as important as the Lady Morgana's actions.

The Prince led their small group through the narrow cobbled lanes, taking the concealed and less used roads that led towards the bay in an effort to avoid any early morning townsfolk who would no doubt remember their strange looking party. She and Merlin followed close behind, hand in hand, Merlin's leather boots and her bare feet almost synchronised in their strides, with Gwen and the Lady coming up behind. As they hurried downhill Freya glanced up at the foreboding grey sky, the heavy clouds making it look as though the heavens were hanging much closer to the earth than usual and even though the sun must've been well risen by now there was no obvious change to the darkness that surrounded them. She could feel tiny gusts of freezing wind every now and then and could almost taste the water that was eager to fall at any moment. There was a big storm coming, she could feel it in her skin and in her teeth. But she said nothing. She knew this heightened awareness of the weather was a talent of the baset, and she didn't want her new comrades to know exactly how much of the beast still remained in the woman.

"It's so quiet," she heard Gwen whisper behind them. Gwen's voice was low and only intended for her Lady's ear, but Freya heard them clearly. She wasn't sure if Merlin could.

"Stories about what happened at the feast last night would've spread all over town by now," replied the Lady Morgana in similar hushed tones. "I've said it before; fear is a toxin. The villagers probably don't want to be the first outside this morning, in case the wild animal is still lurking somewhere."

Freya felt a hot flush begin to creep up the back of her neck.

There was a short pause before Morgana continued. "What do you think? Of her?"

"I don't know. As she is … she speaks very well and seems gentle enough … but I am worried about her bare feet."

Morgana giggled, a slightly louder noise, and Freya saw Merlin frown and turn his head slightly in confusion. Clearly he hadn't heard the conversation, just the laugh.

"Oh, Gwen," said the Lady, her voice once again low. "Trust you to overlook everything else and worry about her feet!"

"Well, there's no point worrying about … the other thing," said Gwen. "She said she wouldn't hurt us, and I believe her. She doesn't seem the type who could easily lie. And besides, Merlin trusts her."

"I think Merlin more than _trusts_ her," countered the Lady slyly.

"Well. _That's_ obvious."

The two women fell back into silence as they walked on, and Freya took a moment to think about what all that meant. They trusted her. And they knew about how she felt about Merlin, and how he felt about her. The strange thing was, Freya heard no judgement in their voices, no disgust, nothing to indicate that they disapproved and that was a wonder to her. She thought that Merlin's friend's would've rejected her. She'd never imagined that they might accept her. She glanced up at the imposing, broad back of the Prince that wordlessly led them on. Well, two out of three wasn't bad.

Before she knew it they had reached the bay, the water now a steely, unmoving grey in which a giant ship that had not been there yesterday was now moored. As they moved out from the protection of the closely built houses into the open dockyards that led to the water the group subconsciously moved closer together. There was no place to conceal yourself out here and for the first time that morning they began to see people out and about, starting their daily chores.

"Stick close," Prince Arthur muttered as they moved between the sparse spattering of people. For the most part they paid them no mind, consumed with their own pressing duties.

"That's strange," Merlin muttered.

"What?"

"Look at all the activity on the ship's deck," he said, pointing. Now that he'd drawn her attention to it she could see the scurry of deck hands running back and forth, carrying provisions on board, securing cargo and rolling out the sails.

"It looks like they're ready to cast off," said Gwen.

"But they only just arrived late last night," said Merlin, a touch of worry in his voice. "Why would they be leaving so soon?"

"Maybe they heard there's a wild animal on the loose," said the Prince darkly, "And they want to try their luck at another port."

They fell into silence and Freya tried to ignore the sting in his words. The Prince's motives were still clouded to her. She understood that he was aiding them as a favour to Merlin, but she was still unsure of his feelings towards either herself, or Merlin's true nature. She tried her best to squash these thoughts. She could mull over them for as long as she felt, once they were safe and sailing on the open seas.

As they got closer and closer to the boat, despite the uneasiness of the company they now kept, Freya could feel that bubble of hope expand within her chest as she finally let herself believe that they were going to make it out without incident.

"Oi, Leon!"

The one raised voice in morning's silence made everyone's heads turn and Freya felt the blood rush to her head in one instant and in the next she felt faint. Her eyes darted around the docks until she saw a familiar, lumbering figure making her way towards them. It was Sally, and she was being closely followed by two very large, very hard looking men.

For a second Merlin remained frozen to the spot before Freya saw a mechanical smile pull at his face as he stepped forward in greeting, his hand like a vice around hers. "Sally!" he answered, his voice high and tight. "Wouldn't have expected to see you out this early."

"And why wouldn't you?" asked Sally as she stopped just before them, her hands on her hips. Freya didn't miss the way she cooly took stock of the company they were now keeping and she was certain the three people behind her knew they were being heavily scrutinised, but Sally said nothing about that. "I'm hardly a stranger to early morning starts, not with my own business to keep running. You two, on the other hand … I'm surprised to see you out. I was sure that you were both exhausted, as I didn't hear a peep from your room all night. Not a sound."

Sally paused, eyeing the two of them harshly, chewing heavily on her lower lip, and Merlin's false smile took on a sickly sheen. Freya risked a glance at the two men standing silently behind Sally and swallowed hard. Both their arms were huge and bulging with muscles that were deeply tanned and heavily tattooed, and their bearded faces gave away no sign of any sort of emotion. They were like twin pillars of stone framing the smaller bar owner that stood between them with the only difference between them being that one had a dark beard and the other had a light auburn one.

"You're right, we were tired," said Merlin a little too quickly. "And we slept like two little logs last night."

"Well then, you must've been the only ones. Didn't you hear? There's some sort of wild animal loose here in these parts. Even I heard the howling and crashing that went on at Town Hall and the flood of people that came into the streets, screaming and crying about some terrible winged creature … well, I don't know how anyone could've slept through all that."

"Well, like I said, we were tried." Merlin paused while Sally just stared, hard-faced. Just as the silence became unbearable he continued with, "I must say, your establishment is one of the finest we've ever staying, top notch, and we're very much going to recommend it to all our friends, but right now we're in a bit of a hurry — "

"Your friends?" snorted Sally, who now moved her hands from her hips to fold them across her chest. "Like those friends just here?"

Freya and Merlin glanced around at the three behind them, the two women managing shaky smiles while the Prince could only give a tight nod. "Yes," said Merlin.

"Like the friends you told me you didn't have, not even a whole day since?"

"We made new friends," said Merlin weakly, a poor lie if Freya ever heard one.

"Fancy looking folk, too." said Sally.

"Oh, no, no," said Merlin, shaking his head with his smile fixed. "They're actors. Cheap knock-offs, the clothes, but they are supposed to look fancy, so yes, you're right about that!"

Freya groaned internally as the fingers resting on one of Sally's crossed arms started tapping out an impatient rhythm and her unblinking eyes stared out in flat disbelief. The two men behind her started to edge slightly closer and Freya could hear the slight sound of leather twisting as the Prince slowly extended his gloved hand to grasp the hilt of his sword. She could hear Gwen's quick breaths that rushed between parted lips, and the Lady's deeper draws through her nose. She could hear the blood rushing through Merlin's veins.

"I don't like lies," Sally said eventually. "Even less do I like people who skitter around the truth when open honesty could solve some many problems so much more quickly. So, _Leon_," she ground out the name, "Tell me. The. Truth."

An age seemed to pass as the sounds of tension seemed to ring in Freya's ears and Merlin's hand started to tremble in hers. Then he spoke.

"Freya and I are under a curse that we're trying to lift," he said quickly, flatly. "We're trying to stay hidden, but it's been … difficult. The people with us are our friends. They are Guinevere, the Lady Morgana and … Prince Arthur, of Camelot."

"Merlin, what on earth are you doing?" hissed the Prince, but Merlin ignored him.

Surprisingly, Sally just looked deeply unimpressed. "A Prince, ay? Anything else?"

Merlin took a deep breath. "We were the ones who caused all the havoc last night, and while Lord Trilous thinks that we're imprisoned right now, he won't for much longer and every moment we waste is a moment we could be putting distance between us and this town. I'm sorry, Sally, but we need to leave now." And as he said that Freya could feel the palm of his hand begin to get hot, like a fire was being kindled within his very frame and she knew he was about to use magic, once again, to defend her.

Freya felt a rush of dread sweep over her. They were too exposed, there were too many people who would see Merlin's magic and act against it and now that they had the added company of the three Camelotians to protect and defend it was looking more and more impossible that a quick and clean escape could happen.

And then the next words out of Sally's mouth stopped them cold.

"Well, of course you need to get out of here. Why else do you think I went to all the trouble of getting Captain Bodter up early and ready to go?"

The whole world seemed to tilt crazily for a moment while everyone struggled to catch up.

"Wait, what?" blurted out Merlin.

"Ah, don't tell me your hearings' going as well as your senses," Sally rolled her eyes and then jerked her head backwards to indicate to the tall, tattooed man with the auburn beard. "This here's Bodter, captain of the _Snowdroper_ and his first mate, Hod. They're good boys, good friends of mine and have agreed to leave a little early than usual with some strange cargo. Boys," she now turned to the two stone giants. "How do you feel about taking a Lady, a Prince, a Guinevere, a Leon and his betrothed on board?"

Captain Bodter grunted and shrugged. "Had stranger cargo."

"And you, Hod?"

Hod gave a similar grunt and shrug. "Whatever captain says."

Freya turned wide eyed to Merlin. "_Betrothed_?"

Merlin look equally wrong footed. "We'll … uh … talk about that later …"

"This certainly is a lot to take in," said Morgana, Gwen murmuring in agreement.

"Hold on," said Prince Arthur, holding up his hand as if to halt the flurry of words that spun round them and stepping forward. Freya had a feeling that he wasn't used to being so left out of a conversation and was now rather frustrated. He addressed Sally. "Why on earth would you willingly want to help fugitives escape justice, particularly ones who had proven themselves to be … dangerous?"

"I could very well ask the same thing of you, Princeling." Sally answered curtly. "Could it be that our reasons are rather similar? That neither of us would wish to see this young pair at the mercy of people who would hate and fear them on sight? They say that the lords and nobles are a different breed to us common folk, but even I would find it hard to believe that your lot would be so completely without sympathy as to let the innocent suffer."

The Prince looked rather taken aback at this blunt speech, a small, confused frown drawing a line between his eyebrows as he glanced over at the captain and the first mate. "And you two. Do you fully understand the type of people you're taking aboard?"

Captain Bodter raised one bushing eyebrow. "A shape-changer? Someone with magic? And a pushy noble, too, by the looks of things. Ay, I know, and I'm not near so scared of such things as you may be." Arthur drew himself up indigently at being called scared, but Captain Bodter ignored him. "We've seen more terrible and wonderful things than what your landlocked mind could imagine and this is just one more story to add to the pile. And if you don't mind," he glanced at Hod, who nodded at the unspoken order, "We're casting off in ten minutes, if you're on the boat or not. No special treatment for princes." And with that the two lumbering stone statues turned and headed towards the _Snowdroper_, with Hod pausing briefly to place a large, meaty hand on Sally's shoulder and lean down to drop a child-like kiss on her cheek. She smiled indulgently and swatted him away before turning her hardened glare back on the group.

"Well," Morgana said, breaking the silence. "You heard the captain's orders. Thank you," she said with great sincerity to Sally before she and Gwen swept past the others and towards the boat. After a few fidgeting moment Arthur gave Sally a quick nod before following, leaving Freya and Merlin to stand awkwardly in front of the intimidating bar woman.

"I … I … thank you," Freya finally managed to breath, staring in wonder at this world harden woman. "Thank you. But … why? Why help us? We're not your problem."

For the first time Sally's look softened, and she stared down at Freya with sympathetic eyes. "Oh, child," she said. "It's my experience that so much evil in this world seems to happen just because people decide it's not their problem. And it should never be a problem to help those who need it."

Freya felt a lump form in her throat and tears sting at her eyes. Not so long ago, she'd been utterly friendless. Now, she had Merlin's love, the Camelotians' assistance and even complete strangers were helping and protecting her. She didn't know how to react. After standing stock still for a moment, she flung herself into Sally's arms, burying her face in the older's woman's chest and letting loose one deep, dry sob.

"There, there," murmured Sally, holding Freya tight with one hand while the other stroked her hair maternally. "You're a good girl, lass, with a good heart. Now, you be on your way." They pulled apart and Sally held Freya at arm's length, brushing the hair away from her thin, pale face and Freya gave a trembling smile. "I wish you the very best, my dear."

Suddenly, a new sound rent through the still, grey air. Though it came from the manor house which was nearly on the other side of town the sound of horns and clanging bells could clearly be heard, a disjointed cacophony of sound that startled the sleepy town to wakefulness with the thuds and thumps of multiple windows and doors flinging open across town adding to the noise. All the people at the docks raised their heads and turned their faces towards the manor, questions already upon most lips.

"What is that?" breathed Merlin, drawing Freya close to his side.

"The manor's alarm," said Sally, eyes fixed on the manor and her breathing coming hard and fast. "They know you've escaped. You must go, now! Run!"

Merlin took just one brief moment to reach out and grasp thankfully at Sally's hand before he and Freya were running as fast as possible towards the _Snowdroper_. As they got nearer he could see that they weren't the only ones making a beeline for the ship as many of the crew promptly dropped whatever they were doing and started to rush towards the jetty where the ship was docked. But as he and Freya were much further away, and their way was not unimpeded. The fact that the two of them were running with purpose through a collection of people that seemed more than a little confused as to why an alarm would be sounding in the first place made them stand out as the obvious fugitives, and people began to point and shout things at them as they ran past, but that couldn't be helped. As they fled a larger man whose head seemed to melt into his neck attempted to stop them as he reached out and managed to grab the front of Freya's shirt, lifting her clear off the ground with one hand as she shrieked in surprise. In the next moment that man was flung backwards and into the freezing harbour water by some unseen force and Merlin managed to steady Freya as she fell back to earth and she caught a glimpse of his eyes fading from brilliant gold back to blue.

"Look!" cried Freya. "They're casting off!"

And indeed they were. Freya could see the sails were now fully let out and the ships hands were scuttling across the deck, pulling aboard the massive ropes that kept them attached to the dock and weighing anchor. The gangplank still remained and even from a distance she could see the anxious faces of their travelling companions as they hovered near the gangplank on the deck of the ship.

There came a new sound from the city, the sound of men's cries and shouts. Still running, Freya turned her head slightly and to her horror saw riders bursting out of the streets into the docklands. There was only two, but as she watched one of them raised a horn to his lips and blew a signalling trumpet that echoed through the twisted streets and out onto the harbour. Scouts, and now they had now alerted the rest of Lord Trilous' men as to where they were. She ran faster.

Just as they reached the side of the _Snowdroper_, Freya could see the massive wooden vessel slowly peal itself away from the dock with every passing moment making the watery gap wider and wider. The gangplank started to wobble and shift as the very thing it rested against started to throw it off.

"Hurry!" screamed Morgana, and without think Freya pelted up the rickety plank and flung herself forwards, expecting to hit the rough deck and instead falling into the waiting hands of Gwen and the Lady Morgana. But in the next moment her heart dropped out of her chest.

From behind her she heard Merlin give a strangled scream that was quickly cut off, followed by the sound of something heavy splashing into the water below them.

"_Merlin_!" she shrieked, spinning around and extending her hand towards the nothing that was behind her. "No!" she cried in anguish, throwing aside the ladies' help and scrambling towards the edge of the boat —

— to find Merlin clinging precariously to the side.

He glanced up at her, shaken but still able to throw a cocky little grin her way. "I'm still here," he said. "But if I could get just a little help, that would be great."

Prince Arthur was suddenly at Freya's side and she saw him roll his eyes. "Trust you …" he muttered, extending a hand down to grasp Merlin's and heaving the man onto the deck of the ship. For a moment the two men just stood there, hands clasped, staring wordlessly at each other, and Freya realised that this must've been the first time they'd touched since they'd fled Camelot.

But love makes people selfish and Freya wasn't about to wait on anyone - not even a Prince - when she had only moments before been so badly scared. She flung herself into Merlin's arms, squeezing him tightly and hiding her face on his shoulder. Merlin's answering hug told her everything she needed to know and faintly she could hear the ladies giggling at what she imagined Arthur's face would've looked like at being so rudely swept aside.

"I'm glad you're okay," Freya whispered in Merlin's ear, just loud enough that only he could hear. "I would hate to loose my _betrothed_ so soon after I gained him."

She felt him stiffen in her arms for a moment before he realised that she was teasing him and he turned his lips to her cheek for a fleeting kiss. "So … you're not mad?"

"Quite the opposite."

They pulled apart from each other, just long enough to see the other smile when there was the whispering sound of something flying, cutting its way through the air and suddenly Prince Arthur collapsed to the ground, an arrow embedded in his shoulder.

Everything seemed to move at half the normal speed of time. Freya stared dumbly down at the stricken Prince, who was gritting his teeth in agony and grasping at his torn and bloody shoulder, and out the corner of her eye she saw Gwen fly to his side while at the same time more arrows flew all around them, coming from soldiers who now stood in a line on the docks they'd just left. She felt a weight on her shoulders and in the next moment was pulled to the deck, Merlin's arms wrapped protectively around her and as she looked around slowly she saw the Lady Morgana crouching beside them while the crew also took cover.

There was a heavy, metallic thump right next to her ear that made her jolt with fear. She turned slightly and realised that a large grappling hook was now embedded in the side of the ship, right next to her head. Morgana gave a wordless cry and sprung up, unsheathing her dagger and stabbing at the rope attached to the hook until it fell useless to the deck. Once it was free Morgana took shelter from the rain of arrows, but it seemed to be little more than hollow gesture because the moment she'd freed them from one hook, three more appeared along the railings.

"Lord Trilous is out there with all his men lining the shore, firing non-stop at us," she said as more arrows punctured the air above them to prove her point. "They're also trying to board us, or at least slow us down." Freya looked down along the railing as the crew tried diligently to cut away the grappling hooks but more and more appeared to take their place.

"We have to surrender!" The booming order came from Captain Bodter as he sheltered near the mast. "We haven't got any speed at all to make it out of the harbour — gods, we've barely left the dock. They'll be boarding us in seconds."

"I only need seconds."

Freya stared at Merlin, wide eyed. She'd very rarely heard him use that tone of voice, but she knew what it meant. If that tone had come from anybody else she would've been frightened. As it was, she felt … and odd sort of pride.

He looked up at her, stared her right in the eye, and slowly the blue of his iris' were replaced with a golden glow that mesmerised her. Suddenly, the soft, cool breezes of that morning started to gain strength and Freya felt her hair lift and dance around her face even as she shivered in the cold. Above them the solid grey clouds started to shift, slowly but surely gathering closer and growing in size as they began to spin above the ship like a whirlpool in a storm, this dance accompanied by the low roll of thunder and the odd flash of lightning. Within moments the sails had expanded with fresh gusts of icy wind and there were cries and shouts as the crew were knocked off their feet and the _Snowdroper_ lurched forward and started to race out of the harbour at an incredible speed. There were screams and splashes, and Freya watched at the rope lines attached to the grappling hooks went slack as people were unable to hold onto the suddenly moving ship just as the first massive drops of water began to pelt down on her uncovered head.

"You'd all better get inside," said Merlin, loud enough for the entire crew to hear as he rose to his feet, his golden eyes shinning bright through the growing darknee. "There's a storm coming."

"Merlin … what … ?" gasped Arthur as he stared above him in shock.

"We need to do as he says," said Morgana, rushing to his other side as she and Gwen tried to lift him to his feet. "Captain! Do you have a ship's doctor?"

"Ay," answered Bodter as he clung to the railings in an effort to keep his footing. "You follow me. And you lot!" He called to the crew, many of whom were watching the gathering storm like fascinated children. "You heard him! Everybody below deck!"

"But who's going to manage the rigging?" one man called out.

Even as he said that Merlin raised his hands and at his unspoken command the ropes and rigging began to operate as if maned by ghosts as the wheel started to turn of it's over accord and the ship rushed though the harbour.

"Does that answer your question?" shouted Bodter. "Below deck, _now_!"

They didn't need to be told again and the deck was quickly emptied of everyone except for them. The rain was now coming thick and fast and Freya was already drenched through, squinting hard against the turbulent wind as she struggled to make any shape out in the deluge. Already the shoreline was nothing more than a faint grey outline in the far distance and while she could still see people moving they were now nothing more than indistinct blobs. A peel of thunder cracked the sky above their heads as lightning flashed and dazzled her and Freya watched in awe as the ocean, now whipped to a frenzy by the wind, rose to beat at the sides of the ship and wash their way across the deck, saltwater curling at her ankles to mix with the freshwater in her hair. _Snowdroper_ dipped and bucked under their feet like a living creature as her masts and sails groaned under the strain of the wind and the rigging lashed and whipped about as it was mastered by unseen hands, but not once did Freya feel any semblance of fear. She shook her wet hair out of her eyes and looked up at Merlin. His face could've been carved out of marble and his eyes positively glowed in the unnatural darkness as he stood stock still on the heaving deck, arms outstretched, fingers twitching as he controlled the storm about them like a spider controls its web. Freya felt her heart swell with love and pride … and a touch of awe. She knew he was powerful but it wasn't until that moment, as they sailed safely through the tempest he created, that she fully appreciated exactly _how_ powerful he truly was. He didn't just control the forces of nature, he was a force of nature. She smiled, even as the icy wind made her shiver. They both were.

And suddenly, like a rope snapping under strain, the _Snowdroper_ burst free of its howling grey prison and came to rest on calm seas. For a moment Freya was dazzled by a sudden bright light above her and she flung her hand across her face in order to shield herself, blinking furiously until she was able to once again see clearly. She looked up in wonder and beheld a bright and pure blue sky above her with the freshly risen sun casting its brilliant rays low and bright over the ship. She spun around and behind her saw a wall of seething grey clouds that stopped abruptly behind them, the soft sound of thunder and odd flash of lightning growing fainter and fainter as the _Snowdroper_ cruised calmly away from the maelstrom. The air was fresh and sweet and aside from the creaking sound of the ship's movement, and the water trickling off the masts to pool across the ship's deck, it was wonderfully quiet compare to how it had been at the heart of the storm.

With a deep sigh Merlin lowered his hands, his eyes once more blue and tired looking, but still he managed to smile at her.

"You stayed," he said softly.

"Of course."

"You weren't afraid?"

She wrapped her arms around him. "Never."

He held her close and pressed his lips to the forehead as they stood soaking wet in the morning's sunlight. When they pulled apart Merlin took both of her hands in his and looked down at her with such seriousness and devotion that she felt her breath catch in her throat. Suddenly it was as if she were standing on the edge of a cliff, at the beginning of some great darkness and all before her was so utterly unknown and unknowable, yet in that moment she felt nothing but a desperate desire to move forward into that darkness and discover all its mysteries for herself.

"I've been waiting for the right time," Merlin said haltingly. "But it never seems to happen the way I planned. And then I thought, any place, anywhere, any time, will always be the right time as long as I'm with you." Here he paused and, never taking his eyes from hers or withdrawing his hands from her grasp, he slowly lowered himself to one knee. Freya's heart started to beat with such force she was sure Merlin could hear it, even without her refined senses. A golden glow enveloped both their hands and Freya gasped as a single, beautiful yellow tulip gently unfolded between their locked fingers.

"Freya," said Merlin with such tenderness that it brought tears to her eyes. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" she blurted out immediately, a hot, happy tear escaping and mingling with the rainwater on her skin. "Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!" And with that she flung herself into his arms, her lips seeking his and they topped, laughing, onto the deck of the gently rocking ship, a tangle of limbs and kisses and one perfect yellow tulip.


	13. Violets

Deep within the bowls of the ship Morgana warily peeled her white knuckled fingers away from the door frame she'd been clinging to and wiped a shaky hand across her mouth. Just a moment ago the Snowdroper had been bucking and rolling like a great whale in the midst of a death flurry but now an eerie calm had suddenly descended upon them. The ship had almost immediately ceased its rocking and was now gently bobbing in a peaceful ocean. That didn't mean her stomach had stopped its rolling about in her gut and Morgana kept her lips firmly pressed together as she furiously willed her breakfast to stay down. She cast a quick eye around the tiny room that four other people were now cramped into the surgery. In the middle was a table that had its legs bolted to the ground and on that table lay Arthur. Morgana caught a glimpse of the shaft of the black arrow that jutted out so crude and unnaturally from his shoulder, the cloth around it now stained and sticky with blood as he moan and twisted in pain, and at the sight she had to fight once again against the sickening feeling in her gut. Two men stood either side of the table, Captain Bodter and the surgeon, a man who introduced himself as Higgins, and they were both now cautiously removing their hands from the princes' body where only moments before they'd been both clinging to the table for dear life as well as holding Arthur down. Morgana wished that their intentions had been to keep Arthur safe during the storm and to make sure the injured Prince wasn't hurt any further, but that was only half the tale and she'd be lying to herself if she said otherwise. The arrow had embedded itself so deeply in his shoulder that Higgins had declared that it had struck bone and was now nearly impossible to remove without serious pain. Morgana knew her adoptive brother well, probably better than he knew himself in some ways, and yet she had never seen him in such agony, crying and screaming out in such a horrifying way. Arthur was the type to bite down on his pain and conceal any type of hurt, so to see him so vulnerable frightened her. He had been thrashing and clawing insensibly at all who surrounded him, and Bodter and Higgins were left with no choice but to restrain him lest he should harm anyone or be thrown from the table.

Morgana's gaze alighted on the last person in that tiny room: Gwen. At first, Gwen had tried valiantly to assist Higgins but as the ship had hurled about she found it nearly impossible to keep her feet and avoid Arthur's flailing fists at the same time, and had been hurled into the far most corner of the surgery where she had slide down to the floor and remained there, bracing herself against the walls as they were thrown about. She had yet to pull her hands away from where they were spread out hard against the walls and even from the other side of the room Morgana could see a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead from the effort of just keeping herself in one place. She glanced up at Morgana.

"Is it over?" she asked.

Morgana swallowed thickly and nodded, still not trusting herself enough to open her mouth just yet.

Gwen heaved herself off the floor and staggered back to Arthur's side, clutching on the edge of the table with still shaking hands. At this point there was now a thick, dark pool gathering underneath his shoulder, soaking his shirt and making it stick to the skin and Arthur himself was lost to the pain as he no longer flailed about and just lay still and quiet, his eyes open a sliver but all sense gone.

"Arthur?" Gwen called softly, putting one hand to his head and combing back his hair in a useless yet comforting fashion. "Arthur? Can you hear me?" Though he made no response Morgana saw his eyes roll and his head turn towards her voice, but he seemed unable to recognise her.

"Well," said Captain Bodter, looking just as stern as ever but perhaps a litter paler than usual. "I have seen many a storm since I first set sail, but not a thing ever quite like that. Remind me never to upset a sorcerer," he muttered quietly, shooting a glance at Higgins who was likewise trying to rediscover his sea legs.

At this moment Arthur let loose a soft groan and Morgana was instantly at his side, next to Gwen. "You have to do something!" she ordered Higgins imperiously, but the surgeon merely gave her a withering looking.

"Aye, lass, an' I would've, ha' I no' been tossed abou' like a rag doll," he said shortly, grabbing his instruments and taking his place on the other side of the table. Morgana felt a different kind of disgust as he dropped a collection of various wicked looking metal contraptions on the table next to Arthur's head.

"And just what are you going to do with those?" she asked.

"I'm gon' to get tha' arrow out, is what," he answered, picking up a device that looked like something she'd find in a smithy. Morgana opened her mouth, then closed it. She wasn't a surgeon, she didn't know how this sort of thing worked, really. But in her still rolling gut she knew that whatever Higgins was about to do, it wasn't going to help and he hand sort out Gwen's under the table and held it tight. Higgins clamped one end of the instrument around the shaft of the arrow, right where it entered the flesh, and in a flash of realisation Morgana saw that he intended to rip it out.

"Wait!"

Four heads snapped towards the door where Merlin and Freya now. They were both soaking wet with their hair plastered to their scalps and water dripping from their noses and fingertips, a bright yellow tulip carefully tucked into Freya's belt, almost out of sight. The two appear such a ragged pair, yet it seemed to Morgana that they were encased in a dim sort of light, a faint glow that came from within, rather than around them. She quickly rubbed her hands across her eyes and in an instant the glow was gone, but the faint smile on Freya's face remained. Merlin's however, was a fixture of concentration and concern as he stared down at Arthur's fevered and pale face.

"Wait fo' what?" questioned Higgins, not removing the device. "Are you a doctor, boy?"

"No," said Merlin, and Morgana gasped as she watched his eyes glow golden. "Better."

Morgana didn't know how it happened, but the arrow simply disappeared from Arthur's shoulder and reappeared in Freya's hands. Higgins gave a shout and backed away from the table while even Bodter grunted in surprise. Freya didn't seem surprised in the least to have the arrow in her hands, rather she raised the bloodied shaft to her nose and, bizarrely, sniffed at it. Merlin turned to her, waiting on her judgement, and she shook her head. "It's not poisoned." she said, but how she reached that conclusion was beyond Morgana for the moment.

Merlin seemed to take her word as fact and was by Arthur's side in an instant, tearing open the sleeve of his shirt and exposing the hideous wound. Morgana heard Gwen take a sharp breath but was proud of the way she didn't waver at the sight. Instead she asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not just for the moment, Gwen," he said, long fingers gently prodding around the bloody hole. Suddenly his language changed and he started speaking words Morgana had never heard before, his eyes positively shining in the dim light of the lower decks. In front of their eyes they watched as the wound twisted and shank until it became nothing more than a memory.

"Good heavens above …" breathed Gwen and Morgana whole heartily agreed with her.

"Here," said Higgins, thrusting a bottle of water into Gwen's hands, now much less eager to be involved in the doctoring of Arthur having witnessed something truly incredible. Gwen took the water and dashed it over the now healed wound, washing away the blood to reveal perfect, unblemished skin. Almost instantly Arthur's breathing became easier and his eyes fully closed as if a great strain had been lifted an he was now free to rest. Morgana felt the world roll under her feet, and it had nothing to do with the ship she was on. A massive storm and vicious fights were all well and good as a display of the might of magic, but this much quieter, much more subtle act showed the real power of sorcery. The power of life and death.

"He needs to rest," Merlin spoke into the quiet. He sigh, bent over the table and rubbed his hand at the back of his head. "We all need to rest, actually. It wasn't exactly a calm night for any of us."

As he said that Morgana felt a sudden wave of exhaustion overcome her. She had barely rested that previous night, let alone slept, and hadn't realised the extent of her exhaustion until now. Now that they were free from danger they had to luxury to rest, and he body screamed out for sleep.

"Aye," said Bodter at last. "I'll show you to your cabin. There's only four beds, though. Didn't know we'd be taking so many passengers." He nodded down at Arthur. "Is it okay to move him?"

"Yes," said Merlin, straightening and looking down at Arthur's pale and unmoving face. "He's beyond danger now, but he needs his rest even more than any of us."

Between Bodter and Higgins the two men managed to manoeuvre Arthur out of the surgery and down the narrow hall to the guest cabin. Merlin had offered to do it for them - didn't specify exactly how he would do it - but Bodter had refused him, saying gruffly that he and his men had seen enough enchantment for one day.

The cabin was tiny, even smaller than the surgery, with two bunk beds running the length of either wall, with a table sitting under a small window between them. The widow looked out onto a calm flat ocean, and Morgana marvelled at the soft sunlight that was now streaming though the grimy glass thinking about how grim the morning had seemed. Then she blinked, neared the window and looked closer.

"It's just after dawn!" she remarked.

"That it is, m'Lady," grunted Bodter as he and Higgins attempted to get Arthur into the lower bunk of one of the beds, a nervous Gwen hovering just behind them. "And I'm thinking with that storm the _Snowdropper_ is about to make some record time to the next port o' call."

Once Arthur was fully on the bed Higgins made a speedy exit, leaving just Morgana, Gwen, Arthur and Bodter in the room, with Merlin and Freya hovering outside. Gwen went to Arthur's side and pulled the covers up over him, though he didn't make a sound. She turned to Bodter. "Thank you so much for all you've done for us," she started, but Bodter just held up one meaty hand.

"Think nothing of it," he said. "Just you lot get some rest." He turned to looked at Merlin and Freya as well, giving them a swift look up and down. "I'm tired just looking at you lot." he muttered before striding away, already yelling out for the crew to _get the hell out of bed and on deck, there was work to be done!_

After a few moments Morgana realised that neither Merlin nor Freya had made any move to enter the room. "You're not going to stand out there all day, are you?" she asked.

"Well," shrugged Merlin. "It does seem a little … cramped."

Morgana looked around her. He wasn't wrong. The space was already filled with just the three of them, and Arthur was in bed. "Well," she said under her breath as she turned to the bed where Arthur lay. She had never been so relieved to be wearing trousers as she scrambled up and into the top bunk, stretching herself out and finding that her feet very easily reached one end as the top of her head tickled the other. "This is going to be comfortable." She rolled over to look down at Gwen, who was still beside Arthur. She was still yet to say something after having witnessed Merlin healing him. She reached down so that her very fingertips brushed at the top of Gwen's head, causing her to start and look up. Though her eyes were dry there was a strain in her face that Morgana hated to see, and she tucked an errant strand of hair behind one ear. "It's okay. He's okay. We can rest now."

Gwen blinked slowly a few times, before nodding as if in a dream and rising to her feet. "Merlin," she said, her voice steady but oddly detached. "Can you help me into the bunk?"

Wordlessly Merlin nodded and squeezed into the room, cupping his hands and boosting Gwen into the bunk opposite hers. For a moment Morgana wondered why Gwen had chosen that spot, and then realised. From that position she was able to keep an eye on both Arthur and herself. Gwen fussed and shifted for a moment before laying still on her side, her dark eyes staring downward for a moment before darting upward to smile sadly at Morgana.

Merlin looked back out at Freya. "You can take this bunk."

"But what about you?" she asked instantly.

"I'll take the floor."

Freya opened her mouth to protest but Merlin held up a hand to preempt any argument. "You know that the floor is hardly the worst place I've even slept and I am so exhausted right now that the only thing that would keep me awake is me worrying that you might not be as comfortable as I could possibly make you. So please … take the bed."

Freya's mouth was still hanging open, but she closed it into the shape of a smile and finally entered the room, closing the door behind her. "Well … if you insist."

As Freya crawled into the last bunk, first placing the mysterious flower on the small bedside table before laying down on her belly, and Merlin reached over and pulled down a cloth curtain over the window, leaving the room in a thick, dark half light as the sun's rays tried their best to push through the gaps in the material, making the small room seem almost cozy and safe. Morgana couldn't help the way her eyes started to slide close with increasing frequency and as she looked towards Gwen she saw that rest was already upon her, her eyes shut and mouth parted slightly as she breathed deep and even. Glancing downward she saw Merlin straighten himself out on the floor next to Freya, who silently reached down and twisted her fingers through his, drawing at least a part of him close to her. To Morgana's continued amazement she watched as small whips of white vapour started to rise from Merlin and Freya's prone bodies, and it took her a moment to realise that it was steam. In the matter of seconds their sopping wet clothing had been dried and Freya's hair now fell smooth warm around her pale face. As the ship bobbed calmly in the clear ocean and the small room warmed pleasantly with the morning sun just outside, Morgana offered up a small prayer of thanks for this haven and, closing her eyes, let sleep overcome her.

Merlin slowly came to wakefulness, unformed dreams of soft swirling colours gradually shifting to more solid shapes as his eyes cleared and focused on the ceiling above him. It was still day, but the sun had since shifted so it no longer blazed straight through the window and a deep darkness had settled over the room. In the far distance he could hear the sound of water lapping against the hull and the shouts and calls of the crew as they worked above them, but in their small cabin everything was silent. He couldn't see Morgana in her bunk, but he could make out a small brown hand dangling over the side where Gwen lay, and as he turned to his side he saw Freya, still sleeping on her side with both her hands clasped around one of his and tucking it under her chin like a child. Merlin smiled and gently extracted his hand without disturbing her, softly brushing a few strands of hair away from her peaceful face. She didn't move, but a heavy sigh escaped her for a moment and as Merlin continued to trail the very tips of his fingers through her hair a tiny smile pulled at the corner of her lips as she sunk into even deep dreams.

* * *

><p>For minutes unknown Merlin just sat there, staring at this most beautiful and brave woman, feeling his heart beat thick and fast and swell within his chest so that it was almost painful. He loved her, he loved her so very much, and she loved him. And they were going to be married. He'd asked, she'd said yes, and they were going to be married. Married. Merlin let the word roll back and forth in his mind over and over with the delight of a child discovering a new toy. Without even thinking about it magic began to spark at his fingertips and before he knew it small violets were now scattered within Freya dark hair, their heady aroma already filling the small, warm space.<p>

_Whoops_, he thought, but without too much concern. He was sure Freya wouldn't mind.

It was only then that he turned to the bunk where Arthur lay - only to discover that it was empty. He felt his heart jolt with worry, but then he quickly calmed himself down. Arthur couldn't get too far; they were after all on a small ship far out to sea. Still, the bone headed Prince was supposed to be recovering for an arrow to the shoulder and really shouldn't have been moving anywhere. As quietly as he could Merlin rose and left the cabin, closing the door with the barest whisper before heading towards the deck of the ship.

Compared to the quiet warmth of the cabin the wind had a bitter chill to it and Merlin shivered as he clambered onto the deck of the Snowdropper. The storm that he had conjured up had completely dispersed by now and nothing but clear blue skies now stretched above them. Looking around he noticed that the shore line was now in view, a far off green strip on the horizon that the ship was now sailing parallel to, though from where they were Merlin couldn't see any sign of a village yet. Caer-Didi must still be a way off.

Merlin made his way straight the the ships wheel to where Captain Bodter was now standing. He spared once glance down at Merlin before turning his attention back to the sea. "So I see it's just the ladies still at rest now," he grunted.

"You've seen Arthur?"

Bodter nodded towards the front of the ship and following his line of sight Merlin saw the figure of Arthur resting against the bow of the ship, staring out at the waves as he ate and apple. He was yet to see Merlin.

"That lad's been up for over and hour now," said Bodter, adjusting the wheel ever so slightly. "Asked for some food then went to the bow. Hasn't moved since. Don't know much about princes' myself, but this one seems rather quiet. Still, getting shot with an arrow does tend to dampen most conversation."

Merlin didn't quite know what to say to that, so just nodded somewhat awkwardly and headed towards the bow. He tried very hard to ignore the looks and whispers that followed him as he passed by, and how some of the crew scrambled to get out of his way. Sailors were naturally a superstitious lot who were used to being at the whims of the weather, and not the other way round. A young man who was able to control storms was to them a much more strange and fearful creature than a young woman who had a curse upon her. And frankly, Merlin preferred it that way.

Arthur noticed the change in the atmosphere of the crew and he glanced around to find the source of this sudden quiet. When his eyes landed on Merlin they widened for a moment before the mask of prince-hood fell over his face. He gave a sniff and turned away again, taking a huge bite out of his apple. Merlin suspected that this was done in a way to avoid any conversation. Well, Arthur wasn't going to get out of it that easily. There was only so much apple left.

Merlin sidled up next to Arthur and leaned against the railing, looking out as the coastline drifted past. For a few minutes neither of them said anything as Arthur continued to crunch on his apple and Merlin was content to sit in silence. He had a feeling that there was nothing much left for him to say, and any step that was going to be taken next had to start with Arthur. Eventually Arthur reached the core and with a deft over hand throw flung the remainder into the ocean. He wiped a hand across his mouth, put both hands on his hips, and turned to face Merlin.

"So," he began. "You have magic."

It was a statement that didn't require an answer, but Merlin gave one anyway. "Yes."

"And you were born with it."

"I was."

"Hm." Arthur folded his arms tight across his chest and turned his back to the railing, now staring out in the opposite direction to Merlin. "I spoke with Captain Bodter. You saved my life. Thank you."

"You don't need to thank me."

"Oh, I think I do," said Arthur. He paused and glanced down at his shoulder where the torn fabric of his blood soaked shirt stood as witness to the horrible wound that was once there. "A wound like that could've crippled me for life, but now it's nothing more than a bad memory. And I should thank you, but not only for this occasion. I've been thinking … this is not the first time you've saved my life, is it?"

Merlin glanced at the side of Arthur's face, but his profile was unreadable. "No, it's not."

Arthur nodded tightly, then turned to face Merlin. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you protect me?" For the first time a sliver of emotion passed over his face and to Merlin he looked almost distressed. "Camelot is no friend to those who practice magic and while in my service you have seen how time and time again we have persecuted those who are different to us in any way. But you stayed loyal. No, more than that. You willingly, and faithfully, served someone who would be duty bound to see you executed. Why?" And with that last word a look of utter loss came over him as he shook his head slightly in disbelief. "Why?"

"Well," said Merlin, drawing out the word. "Because a dragon told me to."

"Wait, what?"

Merlin grinned at the sudden befuddlement that now took over the prince. "Oh, it's true. His name is Kilgharrah and he's quite large. Talks in riddles. Bit of a grump at times, but considering he's been chained up under the castle for twenty years that's to be expected."

Arthur seemed to be struggling to keep up. "There's a dragon … chained up under Camelot?"

"Oh yes. Uther put him there after the purge. I guess he was unable to kill him, so locking him away was the next best option."

Arthur turned to look out at the ocean, leaning on the railing next to Merlin. "So, you've been talking with this … dragon. And he's told you to, what? Protect me?"

"Well, honestly, it's a bit more than that," said Merlin. "Apparently there's a great destiny awaiting you, and I'm to play a part in that."

"A great destiny …" repeated Arthur wonderingly.

"Yeah, I didn't believe it either when I first heard it, not when I saw what a prat you were."

On instinct Arthur thumped a fist into Merlin's shoulder, although that didn't stop the satisfied smirk that pulled at his lips and for a split second everything was as it had been before. Then the moment faded as quickly as it came and Arthur grew somber.

"So you've stayed in my service because destiny demands it?" he asked.

"At first," Merlin confessed. "Remember, the very first time I saw you, you were hurling insults at people who were serving you. You were rude, mule headed and, well, a bully."

Arthur looked uncomfortable. " 'Bully' is a bit strong, isn't it?"

"That's what Gwen called you when I first met her," said Merlin slyly, noticing how Arthur's face blanched at this news. "And we both know that if _Gwen_ has something bad to say about someone, then they're more than deserving of it."

"Oh, wonderful, do keep going," said Arthur, looking more and more ill at ease.

"Okay," said Merlin. "When the Great Dragon me that such a selfish, close minded, brutish, entitled lump of a Prince was going to be one of the most important people of the age I flat out laughed in his face. And in those first few weeks in your service you seemed determined to prove my first impressions correct. But …" and here Merlin became somber. "But first impressions aren't always the best way to judge someone's character. I have been by your side and watched how you can not only command people like a prince, you can lead them like a king. There is a nobleness to you that no amount of childhood coddling would be able to erase and I see in you the makings of not only a great king and a great leader, but of someone who could actually unit these lands in peace. You inspire loyalty and bravery, and you bring out the very best in people around you. I see, Gwen sees it, anyone in Camelot who's met you can see it. I started in your service because I was told to. I stayed because I am proud to help you in any way I can."

Merlin straightened up and faced Arthur, no longer hiding his face or hunching over the rail. For the very first time the two young men were being absolutely honest with each other, all titles and secrets stripped away leaving them free to express themselves however they felt. Arthur stared at Merlin as if he'd never seen his like before and after a few agonising moments Arthur finally stuck his hand out and Merlin met it with his own, and they shook as if meeting for the first time.

"Thank you," muttered Arthur. "Thank you. I only hope I am as worthy of all that praise as you think I am."

Merlin grinned as a huge weight was lifted from his shoulders and he faced Arthur as nothing more than who he was. "Oh, trust me. I wouldn't have stuck around if you weren't."


	14. Primrose

**Hello lovelies! Been a while, but hang in there, we're nearly at the end!**

**First of all, I need to put a **trigger warning** on this chapter for attempted rape and murder. These are two things I hate, hate, hate to write about, but it explains a lot of Freya's trauma. It's not overly graphic, but forewarned is forearmed.**

**Thank you so much for all your lovely messages and reviews, likes and follows. It does mean so much to me! **

**Enjoy!**

When Freya woke up she felt more rested, more comfortable and more at peace than she could ever remember feeling in her life. A little voice in the back of her mind reminded her that she must've felt this sense of safety at some point before; her whole life hadn't been one of fear and fleeing. But the harshness of the past year had stripped away the remains of pleasant memories from before until only a shadowed image was left. She was not the girl she had been, no longer ignorant of the world's suffering and pains, and even now she felt herself changing from a small, fearful person to someone with more strength and hope than her previous self had ever been capable of. Hope. That was the feeling that was giving her such comfort. She had never needed hope when she was younger, and while alone and at the mercy of the curse she had never had the strength to even think of hope. But now, for the first time, she had people who knew of her infliction, who cared about her and who even loved her, and that was enough to fuel the fires of hope deep within her chest.

From her position on her side she could see both the floor and the adjacent bunk were empty, but that didn't alarm her. She was sure Merlin and the Prince had a few things they needed to discuss before the journey was ended.

She rolled over underneath the covers and paused, feeling a light scratching on her scalp. She reach up and ran her fingers through her hair, the tips brushing against something foreign and plucking it from her tangles. It was a small, bright purple flower, a violet, and Freya smiled as she sat up and shook her head, a multitude of the little blossoms falling from her hair to scatter across the bed sheet.

"May I ask," came a soft voice from above her, and Freya looked up to see the bright green eyes of the Lady Morgana staring down at her. "What's with the flowers?"

Freya smiled, scooped up the little blooms and put the on the table where the yellow tulip still lay. "Merlin doesn't just use his magic for great and terrible deeds, m'lady."

Morgana waved a dismissive hand. "Oh please, just call me Morgana. I think we're well beyond any sort of formality at this point."

Freya's smile grew as the pair looked at each other until something shifted in Morgana's face as she suddenly frowned and rubbed at her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine, fine," muttered Morgana, dropping her hand and blinking heavily. "It's just … nothing."

Freya was fairly certain it wasn't nothing, but, having been an expert in keeping secrets herself she felt it best not to pry. After all, they barely knew each other. There was an awkward moment between them that they both dutifully ignored before Morgana slid out of her bunk and went to rummage through her bag that had been left just next to the door. She gave a triumphant "Ah-ha!" as she managed to pull out an ivory backed comb and promptly set about brushing out her long black locks so that they flowed smoothly down her back. Freya saw her give a couple of sly sideways glances in her direction before she spoke again. "Pardon me, Freya. But … may I ask you something?"

"What?" said Freya with a prickle of anxiety. She could just imagine to type of questions that the Lady would have for her and already her mind was going into a whirl of activity as she tried to pre-empt whatever query she may have.

"May I brush out your hair?"

Of all the questions Freya had envisioned, this one definitely did not feature. "You what?"

"I don't wish to offend," said Morgana quickly. "But I just … it just looks like you haven't done much to your hair for … a while." As Freya selfconciously put her hand to her head Morgana rushed to clarify. "I know things must have been rough for you … actually, I can barely imagine what your life has been like … but I know that I've always found it such a comfort when Gwen brushes out my hair - even though I am perfectly able to do such a thing for myself - and I was just wondering if you would like the same …" She trailed off, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, never mind. It's silly." She ducked her head so her dark hair hung like a shield around her face and resumed the brushing of it like an attack.

Freya stared. "You … want to brush my hair?"

Her motions stilled and Morgana looked up bashfully. "Yes."

"Because you think it will make me feel better?"

"Yes."

There was a moment of heavy silence between them before Freya spoke. "You know, I turn into a beast every night and the man I love keeps making flowers instead of strawberries, and yet this is _still_ one of the stranger things that has happened to me." She gave a light laugh and Morgana smiled hesitantly in return. "Sure. Sure! You can brush out my hair, if you like." She crawled out of bed and sat in front of Morgana, who promptly began to gently run her fingers through the long neglected locks. Freya shivered slightly at her touch, closed her eyes and tried to relax. "Just let me know if you find anything hiding in there, will you?"

The next ten minutes were bliss to Freya. She had been worried that the knots and tangles might've had to be removed by a force that would lead to watery eyes, but Morgana was gentle and patient, slowly coxing the strands into order. Freya hummed with pleasure and allowed her mind to drift. The Lady was right, it was a wonderful comfort to have your hair brushed by someone else. More accurately, by another woman. Merlin was magnificent in many ways, but Freya knew that he would never have thought to help her brush out her hair. He probably didn't realise that it was as tangled as to almost be a problem. Although, that wasn't completely fair. She was sure he'd brush out her hair if she asked him. Another small shiver ran through her. She should definitely get Merlin to brush her hair.

"Are you okay there?" Morgana asked softly.

"Hm." Freya was not yet quite capable of forming words yet.

"Is it okay if we talk?"

"Hm."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Hm?"

"How long did you know about Merlin?"

Freya cracked her eyes open a fraction. The cabin was filled with a hazy, golden light and she could just make out the figure of Gwen still resting peacefully on the upper bunk. "What do you mean?"

"Well … how long did you know that Merlin could … do what he does? About his magic?"

The long, steady strokes of the brush passing though her hair didn't stop, but Freya could detect a small shake in Morgana's voice. She cast her mind back to the night she and Merlin first met. "I knew from the moment I saw him. I was shackled in that tiny, horrible cage, awaiting certain death at the executioner's hand, when I saw him pass close by. He didn't notice me - I don't think it even occurred to him that people could be locked in cages as I was." Freya smiled slightly at Merlin's kind-hearted nature. "I grabbed at the bars. I think I frightened him. But I knew, in a instant I knew that he had a powerful magic. It seemed to almost glow out of him. I was so surprised to see someone like that in Camelot, of all places! At first glance I thought he was a Druid."

"Do all Druid's have magic?" asked Morgana.

"Can all people sing?" retorted Freya. "Magic is neither hated nor feared by the Druids, but not all of us can practice it. A lot of what your people consider to be magic is merely herbs and remedies, a careful watch of the birds and the insects and the trees. We've become so good at living in and with the world that many people see it as some sort of witchcraft." Freya paused for a moment, then added slyly, "If it wasn't for my curse, I'd be just as normal as you."

Morgana's hands stilled.

Freya turned to face Morgana, who was now staring at her with an almost trapped expression, one hand still clutching the brush. She reached out and took the item from her, placing it on the bunk before turning back and taking both of Morgana's cold hands into her own. "Why don't we speak plainly?"

Morgana's lips compressed and she shook her head slightly and Freya felt a stab of pity for this fine young lady of the court. Here was a person who had never known hunger or cold or homelessness, but who had never been allowed the freedom of self that Freya had had her entire life. Even now, far from all she had know, she still felt unsafe talking about magic that she could very well posses. If it was difficult for Merlin in a city were magic was forbidden, she couldn't even imagine the burden of secrecy a ward of the King might suffer. She rubbed at the cold fingers. "I only know a little of such things," she said. "Perhaps you could talk to Merlin about this?"

Morgana looked stricken. "He already knows. He's known for a while, but never, never did he tell me that he had magic too."

Freya started as if someone had thrown ice water on her. "What?"

Morgana's fingers started to twitch nervously between Freya's, but she didn't let go. "I've always had the dreams. Nightmares. Visions of things to come, horrible, horrible things. They scared me. I scared myself. I thought I was cursed." She took a steadying breath. "But then I discovered others like me and realised that magic didn't have to be a burden. And it's not. It's keeping the biggest part of me a secret that's a burden."

"And Merlin knew," said Freya, her voice flat. "He knew, and he left you to bare that weight alone."

Some form of terrible change was happening within Freya as a sickly little seed planted itself in her heart. Up until now she had been so convinced in Merlin's character, believing him to be the very model of a caring, kind, brave soul. She had thought that she knew him in the deepest, most intimate ways possible, that she had seen into his mind and his heart. But for the first time she realised that Merlin was not the incorruptible man her love had made him out to be, and a part of her felt silly for ever believe it to be so. She was not without her faults so it should be unlikely that Merlin was free from his. But what Morgana told her was such a shock, such a blight on the man she thought she knew, that already she could sense that a significant moment had passed and the old way she had viewed him could never again be revisited. As she looked into Morgana's bright, nervous eyes where the sheen of tears was just barely being held back, she was disgusted that Merlin had knowingly, willing let this woman suffer alone. Why did he do that?

"Why did he do that?" she said out loud, her voice distant even to her own ears.

"I don't know," said Morgana. "I trusted him with my secrets, but he couldn't trust me with his." She gave a sigh and within it Freya heard years of fear and hiding. Her eyes became distant. "There was always so much noise in Camelot. So much talk and never a thing to be said."

From high above them on the deck of the ship, a faint shout could be heard. After a moment it was repeated and the ship gave a rolling lurch that made any loose item in the room roll about lazily. Freya watched as the shadows in the cabin shifted and moved before she turned to Morgana. "We've changed direction."

"But is that a good thing or a bad thing?" wondered Morgana. She rose to her feet and reached up to touch Gwen's hand to wake her.

At the soft touch Gwen's eyes instantly snapped open as her whole body jolted. She stared down at Morgana looking all too much like a child that had just been caught in a lie and in an instant Freya realised that Gwen had not been as sound asleep as they had thought. For an excruciatingly long moment the two women stared at each other as a soft sort of terror floated across Morgana's face.

"Gwen?" she said softly, and Gwen's eyes dipped to avoid hers as she slid of the bunk to plunk down on the floor, now a good head shorter than the Lady. "Gwen, did you hear all of that."

Gwen took a few deep breaths, still avoiding Morgana's eyes. "Yes."

"And?" Morgana's voice rose and wavered as if she were fighting tears. "And what do you think of me now?"

Gwen shook her head roughly, pressing her lips together, before she raised her chin and looked up at Morgana with such sadness that Freya felt she had to turn away.

"I wish …" she began, paused, swallowed, and continued. "I wish you had told me. And I know what you will say, you will say it was too dangerous for me to know, but I don't care about the danger, not one bit! I could've been there for you, and, I don't know how, but I could've helped! You didn't have to be alone, Morgana. You were never alone. I wish you had told me!" And as the first tear escaped Gwen's desperate, shinning eyes Morgana flung her arms around her and held her tight.

A loud thumping at the door made them all jump.

"Ladies! I hope you're awake. Time to go!"

Freya recognised the voice of the Prince, now full of authority and vigour. Morgana pulled away from Gwen and dashed at the water in her eyes before replying, "No amount of shouting will make us move faster, Arthur! We will be ready when we're ready!"

There was a moment of murmured conversation on the other side of the door - most likely between the Prince and Merlin - and then Arthur said, "Very well. But do try to be quick." The sounds of two pairs of booted feet could be heard retreating back to the top deck.

Freya felt a small, cold feeling in her stomach of having to face Merlin with this new revelation about his behaviour in Camelot, but for the moment she tried to ignore it as she looked at Morgana and said, "Arthur doesn't know, does he?"

Morgana shook her head. "No. I will tell him, but … not yet." She blew out a breath and ran her hands though her hair. "Not yet. There's too much going on now." She bent down and hastily started to pack their bags. Gwen and Freya joined her.

"I can't believe we've reached Caer-Didi so soon!" said Gwen. "I was sure that even with a boat the journey would've taken at least two days!"

"Well, when you've got a sorcerer on board, at least you don't need to wait on the weather." joked Morgana. Freya said nothing.

The three women were soon up on the deck of the _Snowdropper_ where the boys were waiting for them. The fresh salt air curled around them, lifting Freya's newly combed hair off the back of her neck in a pleasurable way, and while the breeze was cold the late afternoon sun left her comfortable warm. Freya glanced out and was surprised to see how close they were to the land. Steep, dark mountains rose up almost directly from the sea, leaving only the barest room for a tiny coastal village to nestle between the rocks and the ocean. Freya felt a lump form in her throat as she glanced up at the sight. She knew those mountains, knew them well, but had only ever seen them from the other side.

_My home was next to a lake surrounded by the tallest mountains. In the winter the storms whipped up the water into waves and you thought they were going to crash down and take away all the houses. But in the summer, wild flowers and light. _

_It was like heaven._

Home.

All of a sudden Freya felt the sharp pang of homesickness stab at her, leaving her breathless. She was so close. After wandering across the land, always running, always hiding, she was now so close to the place of her birth. It was so close. Just on the other side of those mountains.

After a while her gaze drifted down to the tiny township of Cear-Didi. Even from a distance she could tell that the small homes were stone built and hardy, with narrow windows and thick twisted brambles clinging to the walls. This was a town that endured the pounding sea and the melted snow that ran off the mountains that caged as much as they sheltered them. Though Freya had never seen the town before she had had some experience with the people who lived there, and was not surprised to find that the village was as hard and tough as the people who lived there.

"There's no dock," observed Morgana.

"Water's too shallow to get any big ships in," explained Bodter. He pointed out towards the land. "That's why they come to us."

Freya squinted and saw several smaller boats being pushed into the water as the townsfolk started to row their way out to the bigger ship. The _Snowdropper_ was buzzing with activity as the crew brought up food and wares from the bowls of the ship in preparation for those who were about to buy them.

"We have a pre-arranged agreement with the people of Cear-Didi," continued the captain. "Various supplies for a set amount of gold. Don't often offload people too, but it shouldn't be too difficult for you lot to find someone to take you back. Until then … might want to keep out of the way."

The five of them shuffled awkwardly out of the way as large men carrying even larger bundles swarmed across the deck is organised chaos. Freya positioned herself near the railing a little apart from the others as she continued to gaze at the mountain front that hid her home. She didn't notice Merlin sidle up beside her but she did feel his hand slip into hers.

"Are you okay?" he murmured in her ear. Freya didn't miss the look of surprise when she disentangled her hand from his and pointedly gripped onto the handrail. She knew that this was neither the best time or place to tell Merlin what was bothering her, from her homesickness to her disappointment at his past actions to the growing fear of how she was going to talk the witch around into lifting the spell. She was a swirl of twisting emotions that threatened to tear her apart if she spoke of them, so she decided to keep it to herself for now and tell the truth as simply as possible.

"I'm not fine, but I'm not bad. I don't want to talk about it right now. I … I just … want quiet."

She said all this while keeping her eyes fixed on the mountains, but as with all things relating to Merlin she found herself hyper aware of his presence. Out the corner of her eye she saw him staring at her, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he struggled to find a way to make whatever this was better. Unfortunately there was nothing he could do to change the past and for her part Freya was just trying not to let that poison their future. After a few agonising moments Merlin simply gave a tight nod and leant on the railing next to her, hands now clasped together exactly as hers were. So close, but with a chasm between them.

The smaller boats where now all crowded around the bottom of the _Snowdropper_ as shouts and commands were flung back and forth between the townsfolk and crew and soon a swift exchange of goods began to take place. Out of all of them Bodter singled out a tall, dark man who's arms and hands where covered in blueish tattoos.

"Singfere!" he called out. "How's the town been?"

"Well, Bodter, well," said Singfere happily, tossing about huge sacks as if they weighed nothing. "You've arrived early. We weren't expecting to see you for another few days!"

At this Bodter cast a sly glance towards Merlin and gave a twitching little smile. "Had a good wind behind us."

"Well, the day you see me complaining about an early trade is the day the cow jumps over the moon," said Singfere, dusting off his hands and looking around the smaller collection of boats, many of which were now sitting rather low in the water under their new cargo. "I think that's pretty much it." He dropped to his knees and retrieved a small bag that none the less looked rather heavy, and threw it up towards Bodter. Freya heard it clink and rattle as it was caught. "And many thanks in return."

Bodter weighed the bag once before slipping it into his jacket. Freya was amazed that he didn't even glance inside or count it. He must have extreme faith in these people.

"Before you go," said Bodter with his usual grunt. "I've got a little more cargo to off load."

Singfere smiled and nodded towards where Freya and Merlin where resting. "People wanting to get to the mountains, I take it? I was just about to say, they don't really look like your usual crew, Bodter."

"Not usual, no, but more than welcome back," said Bodter with a nod towards the group. "And not just them. Two more lasses and a lad."

"Should be fine."

""He's a big lad."

Singfere smiled and spread his hands, palms up. "No bigger than me, no?"

"No-one's bigger than you, and you know it."

Singfere grinned. "Very well, bring them down."

A rope ladder was flung over the side of the ship and the five of them very slowly and quite precariously transferred themselves into the boats, with Gwen and Morgana in one, Merlin and Arthur in another and Freya making a point to be by herself, taking the boat that was manned by Singfere. She wasn't unaware of the looks this decision gathered from the others but was thankful that none of them seemed to think that this was worthy of discussion. Though she did see Arthur give Merlin a questioning look, to which Merlin merely shrugged and then turned his attention to the shore.

As the smaller boats started to bob away, Freya twisted around to catch her last glimpse of the _Snowdropper_. From these tiny boats the ship above them seemed vast and almost monstrous, and hulking, swaying, cracking life-force. Way up on the deck, standing firm, was Bodter. Without a word she raised her hand in farewell, hoping to convey exactly how grateful she was for his assistance. Captain Bodter mirrored her action and just before he moved away Freya could've sworn she saw him smile.

In no time the smaller boats where all racing towards Cear-Didi, with Singfere the clear leader in what appeared to be a light-hearted little race. While at first Freya had been watching the slowly disappearing _Snowdropper_ her attention was now focused on the town where her destiny would finally be set or broken. She gripped hard at the bow of the boat, thinking about what she would do when she finally confronted the old woman who cursed her. Suddenly a horrific memory rose up in front of her eyes.

_The heavy weight of a strange man above her, hands pawing and grasping and pulling at things they had no right to touch. She cried out shrilly and saw a painful white light as he struck her, tasted her own blood as it ran down her throat. Hands pulled at her hair, stench filled her nostrils, and a fear that she had never know drained away any strength she had ever believed she possessed. And then he whispered in her ear._

_"__Oh, yes. You feel so good."_

_Her eyes flung open and a black rage consumed her. She moved without will, grasping blindly around her until her hand clasped something jagged and hard. With a ferocious swing she smashed the rock into the side of the mans head._

_He howled and jerked backwards, but not before she swung it again, not as hard as before but right back into the small spot. She was now able to push him off her and as she did she brought the rock down on his head again. And again._

_And again._

_Even all this time later, she doesn't know how many time she hit him. She doesn't know when he stopped moving. When he stopped breathing._

_Afterwards she went to the lake. She washed her hands and her face. She threw up. She left him in the woods and never told anyone._

_But a powerful sorceress didn't need to know her name. She just cursed whoever it was that had taken her son from her. Her son, a disgusting beast that had so far been protected by his mother's magic, now lying still and rotten. _

_The first night the transformation came she killed the local barman._

_The second night, the baker's wife._

_The third, a child._

_And then she ran._

"You look like you're staring into the depths of hell," came a voice from behind her. Freya blinked slowly as she pulled herself out of the darkest corner of her mind. She turned to see Singfere looking at her kindly as he continued to row. Looking around she also realised that they were nearly at the shore.

"I … I'm having a bit of a bad … life."

Singfere smiled, but unlike all his other smiles this one was tinged with a sadness to match her own. "I am sorry to hear that. But … you have friends with you, yes?" She nodded. "Yes. Then perhaps life might get a little better?"

"Perhaps," said Freya softly.

"You can only try, I suppose."

Freya glanced back at him. "I suppose this is the bit where you tell me to smile?"

Singfere threw his head back and laughed, and Freya smiled almost despite herself. "Yes, I do smile a lot, this is true. I smile a lot because I have a good life, but I would never tell anyone who looks so sad to smile. I do not know what kind of life they themselves are living."

The boat glided onto the shore so smoothly Freya barely felt a jolt and before she knew it the townsfolk were swarming around the vessels, all working together in fluid motion to unload the boats before the light disappeared. Her presences attracted a few curious looks but so far no-one seemed to be hostile. In fact, one stranger even offered her hand to help Freya from the boat onto the rough and cold sand.

Freya walked through the thin crowd and quickly found herself on grassed land, right where the town began. Town was a bit of a gracious overstatement. The buildings where closely bunched together and while some seemed larger than others it was clear that there were no pubs, hotels or grand town halls. She had heard of Cear-Didi many times, of how peaceful and detached from the world it was. In many ways it was very similar to her own home. She shivered and wrapped her arms around her. Cear-Didid was already in the shadow of the mountain behind it and though the sun was hours away from setting it was already dark where she stood. It was strange. She felt somewhat unsettled, but not for the reason she had supposed she would be. She knew the sorceress and her son had come from this place, and had always imagined it to be a dark, cruel and foreboding town. But now that she was here, all she felt was peace. The people were healthy and happy. The land was fertile. There was laughter in the air. She was surprised, that was all. She had been expecting much worse.

As she curled her toes into the cool grass she saw Merlin detach himself from the crowd and make his way to her. She saw his steps were hesitant and knew that he was waiting for some sign from her that would signal that it was either okay for him to approach, or if she still wanted to be alone. Freya let a small smile flicker across her face and Merlin answered with one of his own as he came to stand by her side. For a while the two of them said nothing, did nothing, and just stared out as the people of Cear-Didi laughed and joked and worked as one to unload their wares.

"Still not talking?" asked Merlin softly.

Without looking Freya reached out and twined her fingers in his. "Not just yet."

Merlin squeezed her hand and together they stood in blissful silence.

After a few moments Freya felt a tickling in her palm and looked down to see several small, delicate, light pink blossoms peaking out from their joined hands. She let go of his and brought the flowers to her nose, breathing in deeply. "Primrose," she murmured, mostly to herself, before closing the gap between the two of them to lean her head on his shoulder.

Soon enough the townsfolk started back towards the buildings, nearly everyone carrying at least one item as the children ran happily between the legs of the adults. A small groups pealed off from the others and Freya recognised Singfere, who was now carrying one massive sack over his shoulder and had another sack in one hand, and was also being accompanied by Arthur, Morgana and Gwen. Arthur turned around and, having caught their eye, waved for them to come over.

"Seeing as how Cear-Didi doesn't have any public accommodation, Singfere has very kindly offered us his home," explained Arthur when they arrived.

"Oh, wow. Thank you!" said Merlin gratefully. Singfere just smiled and heaped the sack on his shoulder a little higher.

"Don't mention it! A home is always happier with more people."

Merlin glanced at the sacks. "Are you sure we couldn't help you …?" But Singfere laughed.

"He already offered," he nodded towards Arthur, who was actually looking a little miffed. "But like I said to him, there are very heavy bags!"

Arthur did not join in with the following laugher.

Singfere's house was only a short distance away and in no time at all they were in a small yet neat and homely looking stone walled house, where a cheerful fire crackled underneath a large pot that was emitting the most delicious smells, and four small girls ran amok, pausing in their imaginary adventure for only a moment to coo and fuss over Gwen and Morgana's dresses before returning to their game.

"My daughters," said Singfere proudly as he dumped the sacks in a conner. "And my wife is out hunting right now, but should return soon. Dinner," he moved over to the fire and lifted the lid on the pot, smiling dreamily as he inhaled the scent. "Will be beef stew."

"Once again, thank you so, so much for all of this," said Morgana. "And I hate to do this, but we do have one more request."

Singfere just waved a hand dismissively. "Ask, my friend, ask!"

Morgana glanced at Merlin, who in turn looked to Freya. She took a deep breath.

"We've come here in search of someone," said Freya, her voice sounding far off and strange. "An old woman, who you might know as the sorceress."

For the first time the smile completely dropped from Singfere's face. At the word 'sorceress' the children stopped playing and were now staring at the strangers with wide eyed apprehension. "What do you want of her?"

Freya swallowed. "We just want to talk."

"Talk of what?"

The smiling, easy going man was now all but gone and Freya wasn't the only one who noticed this change. She could already see Merlin tensing, expecting some sort of fight. She raised her hands in a non-threatening manner.

"Please," she said. "I … she cursed me. Nearly a year ago. I know what her reputation is and I know it is probably a foolish hope, but I was trying to see if she would reverse it. If she would free me."

As Freya explained she saw Singfere visibly relax. "She cursed you," he said, partly to himself. "She cursed a lot of people. She was truly a dark evil on this town. Many who came seeking her had similar hateful thoughts, and I will not have people like that in my home." A ghost of his former smile returned. "I am glad you are not like them."

Freya tried to smile back, but something in his words had struck a deep and terrible fear in her. "She _was_ an evil?"

Singfere looked at her with such terribly sad and understanding eyes that she knew the answer even before he spoke. "I am so sorry. But she died, nearly six months ago."


	15. Dahlia

"What do we do now?"

Morgana just shook her head numbly at Gwen's whispered question as the two of them sat at the far end of the wooden table that nearly engulfed the main living area in Singfere's home. It was all quiet now as Singfere had sent his girls upstairs and asked them to stay there until their mother came home. Even the children had been able to pick up on the tense atmosphere in the room and had gladly departed to continue their game uninterrupted. Across from them Arthur was seated, his hands resting loosely on the table top near Morgana's, the two of them absentmindedly playing with their finger's while both deep in thought. Gwen watched their hands a moment and marvelled at how alike the lord and the lady actually were, wether they knew it or not. Gwen sighed and dropped her head into her hands, elbow's propped up on the table, and glanced at the far corner of the room where Freya and Merlin now sat, far away from the rest of them. Since Singfere'e revelation Freya hadn't said a word, and Merlin only answered questions directly put to him.

Could he lift the curse? No.

Could someone else lift the curse? No.

Now that the witch was dead, did that lessen the curse's strength? No.

Most of these questions came from Arthur and while most people would've seen this as an unnecessary and somewhat arrogant barrage Gwen actually felt a little sorry for the prince. Here was a man who was not only a born ruler, but who had been trained since birth to delegate, negotiate, lead and bring about resolutions. She could see that he was desperately trying to find something to do, some course of action to take. A prince does not like to be told that there was simply nothing more to be done, and Arthur had quickly fallen into the melancholy that swept over the rest of them.

All in all every single wild thought had boiled down to one simple question: what were they going to do now? Gwen was stumped. Did they go back to Camelot? Well, that was impossible for Freya and Merlin, and perhaps even Morgana now. And if Morgana chose not to return then was there really any reason for Gwen to go back alone? She looked over at Arthur, hands clasped tight and brow drawn together. Would she go back alone? Arthur would have to return at some point, in this he had no choice, but would she go with him or stay with her Lady? How would Freya handle her curse? How would Morgana handle her magic? And how would Arthur, Merlin and herself be able to deal with the unavoidable fact that, though they may love and support them, all three were pretty much useless in the face of these obstacles. What was to become of them?

Gwen had been so lost in her own thoughts that she nearly jumped out of her skin when a bowl of steaming hot stew was suddenly placed in front of her. She looked up to see Singfere plonking three delicious looking meals in front of those at the table before returning to the cauldron and dishing out more servings.

"Are you two going to sit in the dark corner over there, or are you going to eat with the rest of us?" he called out to Merlin and Freya.

"We're not hungry," muttered Merlin.

"Yes, you are," countered Singfere forcefully. "And don't tell me different. You've had a blow and a hard one at that, and its left you completely without direction and even without hope. And let me tell you right now, nothing, absolutely _nothing_ is going to change if you just sit and stew in your own misery. You will still be without a plan, without hope, and hungry to boot. So get up. Eat." He dropped two more bowls on the table and gave a hard glare. "Don't you go throwing my hospitality back in my face now."

Merlin just stared at Singfere and for a moment Gwen was sure he was about to start a fight. But then, without saying a word or raising her gaze, Freya slowly rose to her feet, shuffled to the table and robotically began to eat. The rest of them took their cue from her and wordlessly followed suit. As soon as Gwen swallowed her first mouthful she felt her stomach groan in appreciation and realised that Singfere was right; she was hungry. Looking at how the others started their meals slowly before quickly gaining enthusiasm she knew she wasn't alone in this feeling and for a while there was barely any noise in that room, just a soft collection of cutlery clinking, the fire crackling, and Singfere humming an unknown tune under his breath.

After they had finished Gwen felt a good deal calmer and with a warm meal in her belly and a quiet, safe home around her, and she was now able to meet the eyes of those who sat around the table. She sat opposite of Morgana who sat next to Arthur, with Freya and Merlin grouped together at the end of the table. Gwen had eyes only for Freya at this point as she had still said nothing. She hadn't cried or screamed or panicked, she had just been still. However, Gwen could now see the effect the food was having on her as she started to perk up and lift her head. Her eyes caught Gwen's for a moment and while she didn't return the smile Gwen offered her, she could see the unspoken thanks in her expression. Arthur spoke into the soft silence.

"I've been twisting my mind around into knots, trying to think of something to do," he began, his voice unaccustomedly low. "And so I've decided that the best course of action right now would be to do nothing."

Merlin looked up, a ghost of his former smile creeping onto his face. "And here I was thinking you were a leader with such vision …"

"Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"Yes."

A full fledged smile blossomed onto Morgana's face that matched Gwen's, and even Freya's lips twitched at the familiar and light hearted banter. Arthur grinned and straightened up in his seat with a sigh. "We're tired, we're far from home, and right now we're all too …_emotional_ …" his mouth twisted on the word in a way that made Gwen giggle. "To be thinking too clearly about the future. We're in no danger and are amongst good people. So tonight, we regain our strength. We rest. We laugh. We enjoy ourselves."

"And things will be better in the morning?" asked Morgana, a sliver of disbelief in her voice.

"I'm not saying that at all," countered Arthur. "I'm just saying we should rest so we can better face that morning when it comes."

Just at that moment the front door swung open and a short, dark woman in a heavy hunting coat entered the building, a collection of freshly killed birds swinging from one hand and a short bow grasped loosely in the other. She halted in the doorway as she noticed a whole host of strangers sitting at her table, empty bowls collected between them and surprised stare shared by all. She paused a moment to frown quizzically at them before her eyes sought out Singfere.

"I suppose this is of your doing?"

Singfere grinned and walked over to greet his wife, taking the birds from her hands while dropping a quick and familiar kiss on her lips at the same time. "Myla, my dear, we have guests. Gwen, Arthur, Morgana, Merlin and Freya," he pointed to each of them in turn. "They've just been dropped off his Bolter's last shipment and I think you'll agree that our house is a little nicer than the forest outside." Singfere winked and walked away to store the birds in another room.

Myla quickly stripped herself of her bow, quiver and coat, revealing a tiny frame that was still bristling with power, and turned to the five. "Some women would be a little annoyed at finding their home invaded by strangers, but I just see this as proof of my husband's caring, protective nature. And when you find a man who is both strong and soft," and here she paused to flash a wicked grin at the ladies. "You keep him."

At this point a screech of "_MUMMY_!" made them all jump as the four girls came barrelling down the stairs and hurled themselves into their mother's arms as she laughed gaily, gathering them to her in a squirming, giggling pile. Gwen laughed heartily at this but, as she glanced around the table to see Morgana and Arthur sharing her mirth, she was acutely aware that neither Merlin nor Freya could muster up anything more than the slightest of smiles.

Arthur cleared his throat and stood just as Singfere re-entered the room. "I feel that we're a little in the road at this point," he said. "So I suggest that we take a nice evening stroll while the family has their own dinner."

"Agreed," second Morgana, also standing and within moment they were at the door.

"The sun will be setting soon," cautioned Myla. "And though there is no danger in these parts is does get bitterly cold much quicker than elsewhere. Be aware of that."

"We will," said Arthur, and with a final nod of thanks toward Singfere they left.

Outside Gwen sucked in a deep breath of cooling air and indulged in the quiet streets compared to the rush of noise and movement in the little home behind them. The sun was still sitting just above the horizon where the sky met water and she could see that Myla was right, it would soon be dark. Without talking about it the five of them headed down to the pebbly beach where the fleet of tiny boats were now pulled well up past the tide line and turned over, sitting peacefully until once again required. The town was quiet and there was a pleasant tang of smoke and cooking in the air as everyone retreated him for dinner, leaving them alone and unnoticed.

Once at the beach they sat down, face the setting sun, and just let them warmth of the light was over them as they listened to the sound of the gently lapping ocean, the wind the in the trees behind them, and every now and then the odd squawks of various seabirds that flittered almost unseen between the rocks of the foreshore. Gwen put her hands behind her back and leaned into them, smiling as she looked at how Morgana had now closed her eyes as she basked in the last moments of remaining daylight. Merlin had his legs stuck straight out in front of him with Freya tucked up close to his side and Arthur sat slightly hunched over, drawing meaningless patterns in the sand. Daylight disappeared but a wonderful lightness remained in the sky and as Gwen looked over towards the east she could see tiny little point of light as the first stars emerged. It was then that she noticed that it almost seemed as though they were all breathing in sync with each other and despite the uncertainty of their futures, she had never felt more at peace.

"Thank you."

Freya's soft, hesitant voice flowed like a chime into the quiet evening. Morgana opened her eyes and Gwen turned to face her. She was now sitting up by herself, still close to Merlin who was watching her intently.

"I just want to thank all of you for this," she continued. "Even if it hasn't ended the way any of us expected, I'm glad that I was among friends when it did."

"It's not over -" began Arthur, by Freya stopped him with a look.

"Like you said, we'll talk of this tomorrow. But now … just … thank you."

They smiled at each other and Freya went back to leaning against Merlin's side, looking much more relaxed and at peace than she had before. Next to Gwen, Morgana sighed and straightened, looking between Gwen and Freya, then at Arthur.

"Well, I always knew there was no right time for this, but now seems as good as any," she said, talking more to herself than the others. She turned at this point to face Arthur square on. "Arthur. I have magic."

For a split second nobody said or did anything. Gwen held her breath as Arthur looked at Morgana, almost as if he hadn't heard what she said. Then, with an exaggerated, "Good Lord," he covered his face with his hands and dropped flat out on his back.

* * *

><p>"Well, in all honesty that went much better than I'd ever imagined." said Morgana lightly as she pulled back the covers of the makeshift bed that she and Gwen were sharing and quickly darted into its warmth.<p>

"Maybe for you," muttered Arthur, his voice floating from across the room where he was already wrapped in his own bedding. "I think I was just stunned from everything else that's happened these past few days. My servant is a wizard, his lady-friend is a cursed Druid, and one more little thing like my adoptive sister possessing magic is just another earth shattering revelation my mind now needs to work out. Really, is there anything else I need to know? Gwen?" He popped up on one elbow, as if struck by a sudden question. Across the room he could clearly see Gwen's eyes peaking out from under the covers. "Gwen, do you have magic too?"

He couldn't see her smile, but he saw how her eyes twinkled. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Absolutely sure?"

Gwen pulled the blankets away from her chin to give him a look. "I'm just as boring now as I was yesterday."

Arthur huffed at this and his gaze softened. "Ah, well that's where you're wrong. You were never boring Guinevere."

Gwen flushed and hid her face behind her covers again, trying desperately to ignore Morgana's teasing pokes at her ribs.

The three of them were huddled around the dying fire, laying on thick pelts that covered the ground and tucked underneath what felt like a mountain of blankets and rugs. When Morgana had first seen the set up she had thought that maybe it was a bit overdone, but now that night had properly descended she was incredibly thankful for it's warmth. Outside she could hear the steady howl of the wind coming in off the ocean and even near the fire she felt the cold air nip at her nose.

Turning under her blankets she saw Merlin, Freya and Myla near the front door, Myla helping Merlin shrug into Singfere's much larger hunting jacket. Morgana pressed her hand to her mouth to suppress a smile at the sight of Merlin nearly dwarfed in Singfere's much larger coat.

"Well, you can just roll up the sleeves," fussed Myla as she helped him get the feel for it. "It's just a pity you're a little too large for mine and much too small for his, but …ah well! Better to look a little silly and be warm that to freeze with your pride intact!"

"Thank you for this," said Merlin for perhaps the fifth time and for the fifth time Myla simply waved his thanks away.

"It's just such a shame that you two must do this," she said sadly. "All because of the hateful anger of one woman. And you," she turned to Freya. "Are you absolutely sure I can't coax you into a nice warm coat, too?"

Freya shook her head, but smiled in thanks at the offer. "Oh, I'll be wearing my own nice warm coat soon enough. Merlin?" He turned to her. "We'd better go now."

He nodded once and took her hand in his. With a final glance around the room and a somewhat strained, "See you in the morning," he and Freya departed.

Once the door was closed and latched Myla gave a heavy sigh. "Such a terrible thing to happen to such nice young people," she said sadly before bidding the rest of the goodnight and climbing the stairs to rest with her family.

For a long while Morgana lay in a doze, listening to the wind outside and the faint popping of the fire inside and just enjoying the sensation of her bed as it slowly heated up and the new found warmth spread from her chilled fingertips to her toes and back. Just as she thought she was almost asleep a new sound mingled with the others. At first it was so faint that she almost didn't notice at first, but then it repeated itself. And again. It was the sound of a far off howl.

Next to her she heard a soft intake of breath showing that Gwen was also aware of what was happening, and as she opened her eyes and glanced around the darkening room she saw Arthur on his side, unmoving, eyes open and alert. For a while the howling continued at odd intervals and then it stopped and the natural quiet of the night reigned once more.

"And that happens to her every night," breathed Gwen, and Morgana could hear the ache of pity in her voice.

"There must be something we can do," said Arthur determinedly.

"Tomorrow," Morgana reminded them, though her voice shook. "We leave that until tomorrow."

The silence held a little longer until it was again broken by Arthur. "Morgana?"

"Yes?"

"How long have you known about your magic?"

She could feel Gwen listening intently as she rolled over so she could clearly face Arthur. "For a while, but not as long as you might think."

"I don't really know what to think," replied Arthur, but there was no venom in his words. "I'm guessing the nightmares were a part of that?"

"Yes," said Morgana. "But for a while that's all I believed they were and the potions that Guias gave me was usually enough to block them out."

Arthur shifted to better see her. "What happened?"

Morgana shrugged. "I don't know. Perhaps, after being suppressed for so long the magic within me needed to be freed. Perhaps, like with anything to do with the body, it grows and changes as we get older. Perhaps it was simply time for me to acknowledge who I really am."

"And now that you have … have things changed?"

Morgana sighed and worried at her lower lip for a moment. "Knowing what caused my nightmares as well as the strange things that followed help … well, it helped me realise that I wasn't mad. And after talking with people who are the same as me, the Druids that would sometimes pass near Camelot well, the helped me understand that it doesn't have to be a curse. That I can control it rather than letting it control me."

"What do you mean?" breathed Arthur.

"Well …" began Morgana. "I can't do much … nothing like what Merlin can do … but I can do this …"

From her bed she started to focus on the fire where the embers burnt low and red, and small sparks continued to burst and float up the chimney and out. Suddenly her own bright green eyes glowed golden and the tiny embers instead turned and floated into the living room, moving along as if they had a mind of their own. Dozens and dozens of the tiny little sparks floated and twisted and turned above their heads like a beautiful galaxy of golden light.

"Oh my," gasped Gwen, her hand clutching at Morgana's under the covers. Arthur was speechless.

Morgana didn't know for how long she let the embers dance, but after a while she began to feel tired and slowly guided the sparks back to the fireplace where they were promptly caught in the updraft and whisked away.

"I only do things on instinct," said Morgana quietly. "And only in the deepest, darkest hour of the night to avoid detection."

"I'm sorry," said Arthur suddenly, his voice thick.

"What for?"

"For ever making you feel unsafe in your own home," he said earnestly.

"And I'm sorry for keeping things from you," she said, smiling.

Arthur smiled, then gave a slight cough and rolled in his bed, grinning. "This almost reminds me of when we were little," he said nostalgically. "When we used to sneak into each other's rooms, seeing if we could trick the guards or maybe steal something from the kitchens."

"Ah yes, our midnight adventures," smiled Morgana.

"And we used to swap secrets."

"Well, as many secrets as a couple of children could possess." grinned Morgana. Her smiled faded. "Things certainly have changed."

Arthur reached out to grasp at her hand that was still under the blankets. "Not too much."

* * *

><p>The sun shone white and heatless in the crisp morning air as Merlin clapped his hands together, his ears and nose pink and his breath coming in soft white clouds. "Myla wasn't kidding. It does get cold of a night around here."<p>

"Yes," agreed Freya, her face equally ruddy in the morning frost though she herself was somehow unaffected by it, and Merlin was reminded once again at how tough she really was. "Who would've thought that someone living in the region their whole lives would be able to properly describe the weather?"

Merlin pulled a face at her good natured teasing and out of his coat he pulled a plight pink dahlia flower and twirled it enticingly. But when he went up present her the bloom and wrap his arms around her she pulled out of his embrace and left him with the flower. "What is it?" he asked, confused.

Freya sighed heavily and looked him in the eye. "We need to talk."

Merlin felt a flush of warning go right through his body, but he kept his face still. "Okay."

Freya nibbled on her lower lip for a moment before she burst out, "Why didn't you help Morgana?"

Merlin blinked in surprise, then frowned. "What do you mean?"

"When she found out about her magic," Freya elaborated. "Why did you tell her about yours? Why did you leave her alone to deal with all that?"

A few moments of silence trickled by. "It's complicated."

Freya frowned and waited. More silence.

Merlin sighed. "The Great Dragon told me she's evil."

A few more moments of nothing. "That's not a complete answer."

"I - it … ugh …" Merlin struggled to find the words. "You don't understand how difficult it was living in Camelot. How surviving meant hiding. Guias was the only one who knew about me and I couldn't afford to let anyone else in."

"And that's exactly how Morgana felt!" argued Freya. "Only she had to deal with that all alone. And what's this nonsense about her being evil?"

Merlin swallowed against the bitter feeling gathering in the back of his throat. "It's a prophecy. The two of us are supposed to rise to some great power, but by different routes. I've been told that she is the darkness to my light … the hate to my love."

She thought for a moment before saying, "You know, I've always been taught that light cannot exist without darkness to define it as such. Her 'darkness' might not be the bad thing you've been lead to believe."

Merlin started to feel annoyed. "I'm pretty sure a centuries years old dragon know's what he's talking about. It's been foretold that Moprgana will one day - no matter how much we try to prevent it - go down the path of evil."

Freya stared at him as if he were mad and just shook her head in disbelief. "What a load of rubbish. Did you ever once think," she said slowly, "That your abandonment of her in her time of need might've lead her down that '_path of evil_'?"

"I … um …" stuttered out Merlin.

" '_The darkness to my light_'." scoffed Freya. "I've never dealt with dragons but I do know something of how they twist words. I just can't believe that you would fall for such tricks."

Merlin was suddenly aware of a slow burning that began to bubble deep within his chest. He was tired, he was cold and he was unused to being attacked in such a manner. "Yeah, well, like you said, you haven't dealt with dragons. So maybe you shouldn't talk about something you know nothing about."

"I might not be a great and powerful sorcerer, but I've spent more time with those you practice magic than you have," retorted Freya. "And I know that here is no such thing as good magic and bad magic, just how people use it."

"You're wrong there," said Merlin, his voice dangerously low. "Some people use hate to channel their magic, others used love."

"And are you telling me you've never used your magic in anger?" demanded Freya. "That you've never lashed out."

Merlin flushed. "That's different."

"Oh, of course it is," she said, a bitter smile twisting her lovely lips.

"Knowingly using magic in hate is vastly different to a moments lapse!"

"And how do you know Morgana is they type to always use her power in hate? Why is she destined to be evil? Did you ever once think that her 'darkness' could be literal? That she could be more powerful under the moon, while you show your strength under the sun? It wouldn't be unheard of, I know of many priestess' who's strength is a peak in the night -"

"Oh, and you know so much!" interrupted Merlin, his red face having nothing to do with the cold. "You've watched it all like a child, hardly understanding and certainly unable to replicate any of it, and yet you feel as if you have some sort of authority to talk to _me_ about magic! You know nothing of what I've had to sacrifice -"

"Sacrifice?" screeched Freya. "You think I know nothing of sacrifice? I have given up everything but my name and my life, and what have you give up, Merlin?"

"_You know nothing about me_!"

Merlin's roar stunned them both in silence. For a few seconds they stood there, facing each other, panting in rage. When Freya finally spoke, her voice crackled with emotion.

"I guess I don't."

And then she was gone, leaving Merlin all alone in a too large jacket with a freshly created flower crushed in one fist.


End file.
